Dust
by Tessa Cresswell
Summary: Hermione Granger is a Healer at St Mungo's, specialising in drug rehabilitation. When Draco Malfoy is admitted on suspicion of a drug overdose, Hermione is put in charge of his care. "You remember that day you found me Granger? I was drowning, and I'm still drowning." Warnings inside.
1. An unexpected patient

**This is a story that I have been working on for a while. Because I have so much of it already written, updates shall be frequent. (yay)**

**Warnings: This story will involve drug use, but it will be minor. Some violence will come in a later chapter. Also some bad language may feature (this is Draco Malfoy after all). **

**Disclaimer: All characters and the Wizarding world belong to JK Rowling. **

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February 3, 2004. (4 years ago)

"Healer Granger!"

Hermione Granger sighed and allowed her head to droop minutely in exasperation. It was 7am on a Monday morning and she had just arrived at St. Mungo's to begin her days shift.

But Merlin was she exhausted.

Stopping to allow the person behind her to catch up, Hermione turned on her heel and watched the comical sight of Trainee Gee hurry towards her. Raising her eyebrow in amusement, she asked, "Can I help you Trainee Gee?"

Trainee Gee was a short plump young boy with rosy red cheeks and bright blue eyes. He reminded Hermione a lot of Neville Longbottom in his early years, however unlike Neville, Matthew Gee never grew out of his awkward and clumsy stage, nor had he grown into his looks. The result was a Trainee Healer who had a big heart, but one who could never quite gain trust from the patients due to his fumbling when holding-or being given- potion bottles. Despite his clumsiness and rather juvenile looks, Trainee Gee was one of the hospital's brilliant young new minds who knew the textbooks almost as well as Hermione herself.

The huffing young man bent over at the waist upon reaching her and leant his hands on his knees to support himself. Gasping in a long breath of air, Trainee Gee looked up at her from where he was bent over and said, "Healer Moss has requested your presence in ward 7 as soon as you finish your rounds today."

Hermione sighed in disappointment. Ward 7 was the long term care unit for Witches or Wizards who had suffered extensive injury and were under the influence of medical comas. She had interned there in her first months as a Trainee Healer, and had hoped to not have to visit that particular ward again.

Realizing it must be an important case for the Head Healer to call her in, Hermione nodded her head and smiled at the exhausted young man. "Alright, thank you for letting me know Trainee Gee."

Turning away from the younger man and continuing on her original path, Hermione walked towards the Healer's room where her locker was kept. As she passed the Healer's station, she checked the status of the patients in her usual ward. She was pleased to note that young Harry Smith- one of thousands of children who had been named after Harry Potter- had survived the night once again.

She had had strong hopes that her young patient would pull through after he had accidentally swallowed a bottle of his father's blood replenishing potion. There had never been a precedent of it before so it was all touch and go. The toddler had likely thought the bottle was a new toy for him to chew on, and it had been quite a shock for the young boy's parents to find him sucking on the empty bottle as though it were his teething toy. It had been a horrible experience for Hermione to have to tell the young parents that the chances of him surviving the dose of blood replenishing potion were slim; he was only two years of age after all, and there was no guarantee of how his body would react to the substance in his stomach.

Noting that all her other patients were looking good to be discharged after she had seen them, she continued her walk towards her locker, greeting various co-workers with a smile and nod. Justin Finch-Fletchley was pulling his robes out of his own locker when she reached hers, and continuing with a two year tradition, she struck up conversation with him as she spelled her locker door open. She was pleased to discover that her friend had finally proposed to his girlfriend, and she graciously accepted his invitation to the engagement party- whenever it was eventually held. She was the one who set him and Luna up together after all, so she was pleased with the results of her months of scheming and sly nudging.

Wishing Justin a good day, Hermione grabbed her robes and shut her locker door.

Thus, on a day like every other, Hermione started her shift.

After finishing her rounds, Hermione had ducked into the tea room and grabbed herself a sandwich before heading towards ward 7. She was greeted by the sight of Healer Moss standing at the door of the ward writing on a patient chart. The tall older woman looked up and scrutinized Hermione with her pale blue eyes.

"Ah, Healer Granger, thank you for coming so quick."

"It's no problem Healer Moss. Trainee Gee gave me the message as soon as I walked in this morning."

"Ah yes, good boy that one. Anyway Healer Granger, I am letting you know that you will be leaving ward ten for at least the immediate future. We have a case in this ward that I believe only you have the expertise to deal with."

Hermione crinkled her eyebrows into a frown. What did that mean? This was the long term care ward; something she was no expert in. "What sort of case is it that you wish my, ah, expertise for Healer Moss?"

The Head Healer gave a tight smile that made Hermione's stomach turn in nervousness. "I think it is best I show you my dear."

The fact that the severe Healer had called Hermione 'my dear' did not help Hermione's wariness, but she didn't say anything as she followed the older woman to the only bed that had a curtain surrounding it. The ward normally held six beds, but currently all but one had the curtains pushed back and the linen removed from the mattresses. The heels on Healer Moss' shiny black shoes made a sharp tap-tap against the marble floor, while Hermione moved in a more discreet way, with her practical flat sole shoes making no noise.

Healer Moss disappeared around the white curtain leaving Hermione to gaze at it uncertainly before hearing, "In here if you please, Healer Granger."

Flinching slightly at the snappy tone of her boss, Hermione peered curiously around the curtain and her eyes widened as she recognized the figure lying on the crisp white sheets.

"Malfoy?"

Healer Moss gave Hermione a sharp look and thinned her lips before curtly responding, "Yes, this is Draco Malfoy."

Hermione moved into the curtained off space and stood uneasily next to the head Healer. "What's he doing here?"

"Mr Malfoy was involuntarily committed early yesterday."

"Oh. Right." Hermione responded stupidly.

"Yes Ms Granger." Healer Moss shifted from her position next to Hermione and walked closer to Malfoy's inert form on the bed with her wand raised. Hermione watched as her boss ran a series of spells to check Malfoy's body, but nothing out of the ordinary showed up. Finishing with the task, Healer Moss turned on her heel and pierced Hermione with her cool gaze.

"Now, I am well aware of your history, but Mr Malfoy is a patient- the only patient- of this ward. I expect the uttermost professional conduct from you. Your history with your patients should not influence the way in which you treat them. Your job as a Healer comes before childhood rivalry."

Hermione nodded her head dumbly- she was still reeling with the information of what Malfoy's presence meant- and said distractedly, "I understand Healer Moss."

"Make sure you do Miss Granger. I will not have you treating Mr. Malfoy any different to other patients."

"Yes Healer Moss."

"Good. Now, Healer George was the one who first had contact with Mr. Malfoy, and he does not expect Mr Malfoy to wake up for some time. The dosage that he took is believed to have caused him to slip into a coma and it could be harmful for him if we were to revive him. We do not know the properties of the drug that he took, but I do not expect it to be an easy recovery for your patient."

"So I take it that Mr Malfoy is in this ward and under my care to specifically undergo rehabilitation then?" Hermione asked carefully.

Healer Moss gave her a sharp look and nodded her head. "Yes Miss Granger. I believe you have enough experience with these cases that other Healers do not. I expect that you will be able to help Mr Malfoy more than any of the other Healers who usually work in this ward."

Hermione did not respond but rather nodded her head to signify her understanding. Her specific area of expertise was drug withdrawal care and rehabilitation, and the knowledge that the heir to the Malfoy Empire had been committed because of a drug addiction was something Hermione could not get her head around. The fact that this single person- the bane of Hermione's Hogwarts experience- had cleared out an entire ward of long term patients was enough to signify the importance of this case.

The Malfoy family were at the height of Pure Blood society and the youngest Malfoy had lived the past four years after his house arrest without a single scandal to tarnish his name. Clearly the humiliation of a drug addiction would impact heavily on the family's improving social standing.

"Be sure to remember that the Malfoy family is demanding the uttermost secrecy with this case. The other patients have been moved to a different ward and I expect you to treat this case with the same level of professionalism as you show for your other cases." The older woman said as she began bustling about the tiny portioned off area. After reviving a vase of slightly wilted blue flowers, she turned back to Hermione.

"I shall be back later to check on Mr Malfoy's progress. In the meantime, I suggest you get yourself acquainted with Mr Malfoy's records."

"Yes Healer Moss."

As soon as the other woman left, Hermione sank into the cushioned chair by Malfoy's bed and stared at the blonde haired man.

He looked like crap in Hermione's opinion. Gone was the carefully sleeked back hair and gone was the delicate looking and unblemished pale skin. Malfoy's eyes were sunken and dark bruises shadowed them. His lips- those lips that could inflict the worst of insults- were a lifeless white. He looked sallow and unhealthy, as though he had not eaten a proper meal in days.

He looked like how she felt on her 'off days'.

Hermione couldn't help but wonder how the life of someone like Malfoy could go so terribly wrong. After the war, he had been sentenced to house arrest for his participation- it was small and it was under duress his lawyers had said- in the war. Since he had been released, he had built up quite the reputation for himself, particularly his solid position in bachelorhood and his prowess with business dealings. He had singlehandedly improved the Malfoy name for himself and his mother, and they were once again one of the elite families of Wizarding society.

Hermione knew that with his lifestyle, he would have been inclined to indulge in recreational and illicit drugs during many of the parties that were thrown at the Malfoy manor. He may not have even realised he was building a tolerance to the drugs until it was too late and he accidentally overdosed as a result of getting that high. Hermione's opinion of her childhood enemy over the years had probably conformed with every other person's opinion of him; he was young, rich and good looking, with a life of sleeping around with women and drinking fire whiskey by the night, and dealing with money and power by the day.

Malfoy's were not supposed to end up in a public hospital like St Mungo's; there were luxurious and secluded resorts in another country for these sorts of things. It irked Hermione that Malfoy was here in a public hospital. She was sure that this would not have been the Malfoy's first choice in care, and she wondered as to why he was here and not in Switzerland.

Hermione sighed and pulled herself out of her musings. It did her no good to wonder how the youngest Malfoy ended up in her care, but she knew from experience that this was the calm before the storm. The body could only go so long without the drug before it started rebelling. As soon as he woke up, she knew that there would be hell to pay.

She knew, because she had been in this exact same situation herself.

And it was far from the luxurious lifestyle Malfoy had been pretending to live for the last few years.

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**Reviews are appreciated. Because I have so much, I would love to read feedback so I have an idea of what readers do/do not like (as this will contain drug use…)**

**Next update shall be in 3 days.**


	2. An unexpected recovery

**The next chapter. Thanks to the people who followed and favourite-d! Reviews make me smile.**

**J.K Rowling owns all Harry Potter names and spells. **

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3 days later (February 6, 2004)

Hermione was walking back into her ward with a fresh cup of tea when she heard voices coming from behind Malfoy's curtain. Since he had been brought into the ward, Malfoy had not had any visitors. Silently Hermione approached the bed, her curiosity strong.

Peering around the curtain, Hermione saw a dark haired man hunched over the pale figure of Malfoy. "Draco? Draco mate come on. Wake up."

"He can't hear you."

The dark haired man whirled around and stood rigidly as he faced Hermione. "What's wrong with him?"

"I can't tell you that I'm sorry. But I can tell you that he is not able to hear you. He is under a sort of magical coma so his ability to communicate with this world is not possible at this time."

"What do you mean 'sort of magical coma'. I'm the one who bought him in; I have a right to know what is wrong with my brother."

Hermione almost choked on the sip of tea she had just taken, but quickly composed herself. Malfoy had a brother?

"Oh, so you are the family member who committed him then? We have been trying to get in touch with you for some days now. Apparently you left before giving your details when you dropped Mr Malfoy off the other day."

The man shrugged his shoulders and then sat down in the little side chair and stared at Hermione. "What of it?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow and stared at the man. Was this guy serious?

Before she could give the man a lecture, he piped up from his spot next to Malfoy's bed, "You're Hermione Granger right?"

Hermione stared levelly at the man, but did not deny it.

"Yes, I thought you looked familiar. I don't think you remember me though." The man stuck his hand out and Hermione moved closer so she could shake it. "Blaise Zabini."

Hermione prided herself on the look of nonchalance that she displayed at finding this news. She was talking to Blaise Zabini? _The_ Blaise Zabini? Ginny would have a fit if she knew! Lowering her hand and stepping away, Hermione responded, "Well, it's nice to meet you Mr Zabini. But unless you have any plans on telling me exactly how Mr Malfoy came to be in my ward, I am going to have to ask you to leave. Visiting hours for this ward are restricted and you are already in breach of these times. I really don't fancy having to call security to remove my patient's family."

Zabini stared at her hard for a long moment before crossing his legs and leaning back. "What do you want to know?"

Well, that wasn't hard Hermione thought to herself. But knowing that Blaise Zabini was a Slytherin made Hermione cautious of the sort of information he could provide. "What did he take?"

Best to get the hard questions out the way first.

Zabini rolled his eyes, shook his head in exasperation and leaned forwards, resting his forearms on his crossed knee. Pinning Hermione with his gaze, he asked, "What do you think he took Granger?"

"It's Healer Granger actually," Hermione responded with as much patience as she could muster before quickly losing eye contact with the man, preferring to look over his shoulder to the blank wall. "So we were right in our assumption that he has consumed some sort of drug. Considering the consequences, I'm pretty sure it was something worse than gillyweed root?"

Zabini snorted. "Please. Draco has the money and the means to obtain something better than smoking that common shit."

Silently, Hermione agreed. Ron often had a joint of it at parties, and he was left staring stupidly into space for the better part of the night. "Ok, so I'm dealing with illicit drugs after all then." It wasn't a question; she knew she was dealing with something serious.

Clapping his hands slowly, Zabini stood and stared down at her smaller figure. "You were the brightest witch of our age Granger. I take it that getting Draco...clean" Zabini crinkled his nose at this word, "won't be too difficult for you."

"He's my patient," Hermione deadpanned. "I have to get him 'clean' whether it's difficult or not."

"Huh, well that's alright then," was all the man said before he gave her a curt nod, a cursory glance at Malfoy and then pushed the curtain aside to stride out.

Hermione stood gaping at the swaying curtain after Zabini's abrupt departure, but soon gave her head a shake and muttered "crazy Slytherin's" before carrying her tea cup over to her little desk in the corner. She was doing research on the types of drugs Malfoy could have consumed, but was no closer to figuring it out. She had already ruled out the cheap and common drugs, rather favouring the more expensive and hard to come by drugs that she guessed people with Malfoy's money would favour taking. Even when it came to something as deadly and dangerous as drugs, they had to have the very best.

Hermione had been in this ward by herself for the past three days since being given Malfoy's case, and she was starting to get bored with just research. There was only so much one could do on finding information on drug withdrawal before they exhausted the available resources after all. And she was one of the leading experts on Wizarding addiction, so she wasn't exactly learning much anyway. She was hoping Malfoy would wake up soon just to give her something to do.

Even if it would most likely be a nightmare to deal with.

Malfoy had been out for at least four days, but there was no telling how long he had been out before Zabini had found him. Depending upon the drug and Malfoy's dependence on it would depend on how he would react upon waking. Hermione was hoping that it was a onetime stupid overdose that Malfoy had taken. It was much easier to help him if that was the case rather than having to put him through a detox program and rehabilitation.

Unfortunately, Hermione was a realist, and she knew that there was a very strong chance that whatever drug-or drugs- that Malfoy took, he was dependent upon them to an extent. One look at his face could suggest many a night of him drunk and alone doing lines. Given his social standing, it was even more believable that he had spent many a night surrounded by pretty women snorting thorough a peacock feather while raunchy bedroom activities occurred behind him.

It was the type of lifestyle he led after all; fame, money and women. It wasn't hard to imagine the number of scenarios in which he had used and abused drugs.

Healer Moss often came into the ward to check upon Malfoy's progress, but there was little to report, so Hermione was often left with herself for her own company. She often swapped pleasantries with the other Healer assigned to the night shift, but as Malfoy's condition was neither getting better nor worse, conversation was stilted.

Malfoy was still unconscious and it did not look like he would be re-emerging into the world anytime soon. Until he awoke, Hermione was going to enjoy the quiet time to work on her next paper.

It wouldn't stay quiet for long after he regained consciousness.

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No one came back to visit Malfoy until the seventh day of his stay. She had received an interdepartmental note from reception asking if her patient was up to having visitors. In her haste to reply that yes, Malfoy was up for visitors- personally, she was craving company after three days of no one else but Healer Moss coming and going- Hermione accidentally elbowed her cup of tea as she went to ink her quill. She cursed out loud as the charmed-to-stay-hot water fanned out from the site of the spill towards her in a rapid rush. After a career behind a desk and an even longer education behind a desk, her reflexes had never been up to par. As it was, the scalding liquid waterfalled over the edge of her desk and soaked through her Healer's robes onto the tender skin of her stomach and breast.

Muttering obscenities at the pain as her nerve endings went haywire, Hermione flicked her wand to evaporate the liquid on her desk, and muttered a drying charm to both the papers on her desk and her Healer's robes. She had had enough experience with burn wounds to know what she needed to do, so with a quick glance in Malfoy's direction to make sure he was still out cold, and a brief glance at the door to make sure it was clear, she pulled down the top part of her robes to expose the skin underneath, leaving her in just her 'once-was-white-but-now-tea-stain-brown' bra. Seeing the angry red marks burnt into the creamy whiteness of her skin, she decided to use something from the potions cupboard to help the redness heal and fade.

It wasn't the worst burn she had inflicted on herself, but it was bad enough to cause a nasty and persistent stinging pain that she didn't want to have to deal with all day. She hurried over to the healing potions cupboard and opened the door, gazing in at the numerous potions, gels and powders that cluttered the shelves in a bright rainbow of colours. Seeing the flask of vibrant blue gel that would work, she stood up on her tiptoes and shifted aside a vial of sickly green goo before snatching up the flask she needed. After opening the stopper, she scooped out a small amount of the cooling gel. With the hand that wasn't cradling the gel, Hermione re-stoppered the flask and placed it back in its original position before closing the cabinet door.

Turning around so that she was leaning against the cupboard, Hermione delicately dabbed the gel onto the flesh of her breasts and her stomach before using precise circular movements to blend the blobs into her skin. She had to lower the cups of her bra to ensure the skin under the material was not affected but found that the sensible bra she wore had soaked up most of the moisture.

She sighed in relief as the cooling effects of the gel went to work on her skin; it wouldn't take long before the gel started to work its magic. She repositioned her bra and pulled the top of her robes back over her shoulders thinking that it was a blessing that the ward was so quiet. She didn't know what she would have done if someone had walked into the room when she had her clothes half off! As she walked back to her desk, she felt the pleasant tingly feeling of the gel and was quite confident that by the end of the day her angry skin would be back to its unblemished state.

Ten minutes after her little incident, Hermione was back behind her desk reading an article on Pixie Dust and using a dictating quill to take notes. She was startled out of her intense scrutiny of the article by a person clearing their throat. Looking up guilty- she had forgotten to respond to the interdepartmental note after all- she met the cool gaze of Blaise Zabini once again.

"Am I in time for visiting hours?" the wizard asked her with a quirk of his left eyebrow as though to challenge her into saying no.

Hermione placed the papers she was reading down and stood up. So this was the visitor? How nice of him to request visiting rights, Hermione thought sarcastically. Pasting a professional looking smile on her face, Hermione beckoned to the tall man at the door, "Mr Zabini, visiting hours will end at three o'clock. Until then, please feel free to keep my patient company."

Zabini nodded his head once and then made his way into the ward towards Malfoy's bed. With his back turned to her, he said, "I take it that there has been no improvement?"

Nodding grimly, Hermione gave her assent, before realising he couldn't see her. She stood, deciding to do her checks on Malfoy and said for Zabini's benefit, "No improvement. I can't figure out what drug he has taken. Nothing I have ever seen has taken this long for a patient to recover from."

Zabini paused and turned to face her but made no comment as Hermione swept past him. He watched as she ran her wand over his body to gauge his current condition, but found that he was not lacking in nutrition or water. "I guess you will have to wait until he wakes up then Granger."

Without turning around, Hermione corrected him, "It's Healer Granger to you Mr Zabini. Please remember to keep that in mind; this is my work, so I must keep it as professional as possible, despite the fact that we went to school together."

"Yet you are still the same bossy know it all as back then. Old habits die hard Granger."

Hermione shook her head but did not deign to give a response as she heard the soft decompression of the seat cushion as Zabini sat down in the chair next to Malfoy's bed. Sweeping the curtain back so that the light from the windows could filter onto the bed- Malfoy was looking rather deprived of some good old vitamin D- Hermione could feel Zabini's gaze on her the whole time. Ignoring his presence, she cast some cleaning charms on the ward and with a flick of her wand she levitated Malfoy up into the air, while another flick caused his sheets to be changed. After attending to her patient- and successfully ignoring his visitor- Hermione wandered back over to her desk and settled herself down to finish reading the article on Pixie Dust.

By the time she had finished the article and had taken more notes, the silence had not been broken. Looking up, she found Zabini staring at her, but seemingly not quite seeing her. Hermione quirked an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side and returned his gaze. After a few moments of silence, Hermione broke it with a soft voice. "There is this Muggle idea that if you talk to a person who is in a coma, they will be able to hear you."

Zabini shook his head dazedly and looked at her in shock- obviously he had not been expecting that- but then started to chuckle. "Draco can hear me perfectly fine Granger."

Hermione pursed her lips and sent Zabini a challenging look. "And how do you know that?"

Smirking, Zabini stood up and picked up a goblet of water that had been sitting on the bedside table. "Like this." He then proceeded to pour the full glass of water all over Malfoy's face.

Gasping in shock at what she was seeing, Hermione rushed over to where Zabini was harming her patient with the intention of throwing him out and banning him from the ward. Before she could get even half way across the room, Malfoy suddenly sat up. He was spluttering water from his mouth and was using his hands to wipe it out of his eyes, but when he made eye contact with Hermione, he looked ready to kill.

"Oh Shit."

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**Oh Dear! Malfoy is awake. Hermione can't say she's bored anymore now! **

**Let me know what you think. **

**:)**


	3. An unexpected piece of advice

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**(The chapter titles will always give a preview of what to expect in each chapter!)**

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Hermione remained frozen on the spot trapped under Malfoy's steely grey gaze. He was sitting up ramrod straight with water dripping from his long lank hair onto his pale face. His grey eyes- which after so many days enclosed in the darkness of his eyelids- did not in the least bit look disorientated, and his glare could have frozen her to the bone. She knew from her own experience that this was the worst part; Malfoy had been without his drug of choice for a number of days and his body was craving the need for more.

The inner turmoil that Malfoy must be going through made Hermione wary of him. He was likely to become aggressive and rash in the next few moments.

"Draco!"

Hermione jumped at the words of Zabini and tempted fate by shifting her gaze from Malfoy to the other man by the bed for a short second before turning her attention back to her patient. She needed to be prepared to defend herself and Zabini should Malfoy start getting violent. She wished she had thought to use a charm to keep him to the bed while he had been unconscious, but it was too late for that now; it would only anger him further.

Malfoy ever so slowly moved his eyes from her and turned his head to look at the beaming Zabini. Hermione drew her wand out ready to fire a stunning spell at Malfoy if the need arose.

However, instead of the violent scene she had been envisioning for the past few days upon his awakening, Malfoy simply looked at Zabini and raised an eyebrow before flopping back onto the water soaked pillow with a loud groan.

"You woke me up just so I could look at your ugly mug? Some friend you are."

Hermione wanted to pull a face at the look of supreme smugness Zabini sent to her over his victory of having successfully revived Malfoy with a glass of water. She wondered how he had known that the man was no longer unconscious. Hermione grumbled about cocky Slytherins in her head and began to inch backwards towards her desk, not daring to take her eyes off Malfoy.

Maybe her original thoughts that he was a regular abuser of drugs were incorrect; maybe it was a onetime thing, and he had accidentally overdosed based on inexperience? Despite the reason for his coma, Hermione would treat him as a potentially dangerous patient until she knew he could be safely discharged. She was still under an obligation to educate him about the dangers of using drugs, even if she knew that such teachings would be futile.

Hermione watched as Zabini sat back down in the bedside seat and crossed his legs. He began inspecting his fingernails uninterestedly and Hermione allowed herself to relax out of her tense posture. As she lowered herself into her own desk chair, she saw Zabini suddenly stand up. Looking from Malfoy to Zabini, Hermione fingered her wand, a stunning spell on the end of her tongue. Zabini towered over the form of his friend and Hermione winced slightly as Zabini slammed his fists down onto the mattress.

The imposing man bent his body over her patient and hissed loudly enough that Hermione could hear all the way across the room, "You're a prat Draco. Do you have any idea what the hell I have been through for the past few days?!"

Discreetly watching the two Slytherins with wariness, Hermione leant forward at her desk with her wand still in her hand and pretended to read the paper in front of her. She didn't know where this was going to go; drugs could make a person volatile and Hermione needed to stay ready to defend her patient's visitor. Even if they were best mates, Hermione knew that to the drug addicted brain, friendships meant nothing.

Hermione herself had almost once taken Ron's bludger bat and tried to seriously harm him in the middle of one of her quests to get her next dose. She had committed herself to hospital for detox and rehabilitation, and upon her release, she had vowed to never tempt herself with the release that drugs could give her. It wasn't worth it. She had lost herself as a result of her addiction, and she had almost physically harmed her boyfriend.

She had given up her dreams of studying in the Muggle world in favour of learning to become a Healer. The Healers at St Mungo's had helped her get her life back on track, and she felt that she had to repay that debt somehow. She had also wanted to be in a position where she could help other young people like herself get the help that they needed. By the age of twenty two, Hermione had graduated as a Healer and had somehow in the two years she had been here, ended up becoming St Mungo's 'go to' Healer for cases of drug addiction education and rehabilitation. Now at the age of twenty four, she was considered to be one of the most respected Healers in the area of drug rehabilitation, attending conferences around the world and peer reviewing articles about the latest research into detox methods.

Hermione watched as Malfoy lay prone on his bed and then suddenly he was lifting his right arm up. Swiftly standing, Hermione whipped her wand up to protect Zabini, but she was stopped by the placement of Malfoy's arm. He wasn't aiming to lash out at Zabini; rather, he had moved his hand to his face and with his pale fingers, he was pinching the bridge of his nose.

Letting out a soft breath of relief, Hermione lowered herself once more back into her chair. She could see Malfoy's mouth moving, but couldn't understand what was being said as Zabini was still hovering over him, and her desk was too far away to catch what was being said in their quiet voices. Not wanting to look like she was eavesdropping, and despite her burning curiosity, Hermione picked up her article again and tried to get reacquainted with the information.

* * *

Five minutes later, she had been reading the same sentence over and over again after giving into her curiosity of finding out what Malfoy and Zabini were discussing. Their heads were still close together and their voices were still soft, but Hermione was intently watching their body language. She could tell that Malfoy was saying something that was pissing Zabini off by the stiff posture of Zabini's shoulders.

Suddenly the dark haired Slytherin stood and shook his head. With his voice raised in what Hermione detected as both anger and frustration, his words could be clearly heard. "No Draco. If you do it again, your mother will hear about this do you understand? I don't care if my father is going to be marrying your mother and that I will be dragged along with this shit ride. I refuse to allow you to self destruct in such a stupid way!"

By the end of his tirade, Hermione's mouth was slightly open. She was staring at the duo with fascination. So they weren't brothers just yet; just soon to be brothers. Zabini had lied when he had brought Malfoy in then. She wondered why. Further, it seemed likely that Mrs Malfoy did not know where her son was, thus making it likely that she also didn't know about his use of drugs.

For someone who had lied to Voldemort out of concern for her only son, Hermione couldn't imagine Mrs Malfoy just sitting idly at home waiting for him to wake up, which explained her lack of presence by his bed over the past few days.

Zabini suddenly turned around and faced Hermione. His movements were too quick for her to school her features into a look of un-interest, and upon being pinned under his glare, she awkwardly shifted in her seat and dropped her eyes to the paperwork in front of her.

She heard a sigh, some rustling, and then Zabini's voice saying, "Don't Draco. Just don't. If you know what is good for you, get clean. Granger is apparently the best in what she does. I don't care if you don't want her touching you. I don't care if you're in pain. Just. Don't. Screw. This. Up. I am serious. There is too much weighing on you getting clean."

Hermione had to stifle a small laugh; as if she'd want to touch Malfoy anyway. She was a tad bit concerned about hearing that he was in pain; sometimes drug addictions stemmed from pain relief potions. Maybe Malfoy had overdosed on a simple and common pain potion? She had already ruled those out, but hearing the pain part made her think she should look closer into it.

From the corner of her eye, Hermione watched as Zabini turned on his heel stiffly and made his way across the room towards her. She lowered the paper she was pretending to read and gazed up at the visitor with an air of what she hoped was professional neutrality. "I will be back tomorrow. My advice in the meantime; don't piss him off."

And with those as his parting words, Zabini stormed out of the ward leaving silence in his wake.

* * *

From Malfoy's bed, Hermione heard a scoff and then a loud gasp. It was the first noise to be emitted by either one of them since Zabini's abrupt departure five minutes ago. She had been studying her papers with the intention of putting off facing Malfoy for as long as she could, but at the noise, she realized time was up. Looking towards her blonde patient with interest, Hermione was concerned to see that his face was scrunched up in an expression that looked a lot like pain. Feeling a stab of sympathy for her childhood tormentor- Hermione did have an idea of what he was experiencing after all- she slowly approached his bed, cautious of the fact that he was not restrained in anyway.

Malfoy's face instantly shuttered the moment he heard her footsteps, and Hermione could see the strain he was going through to keep his pain under wraps so as to not appear weak in front of her. Stupid really, she was his Healer after all. But with a history behind them, she was without a doubt not going to be treated the same as any other Healer.

Stopping at the end of his bed, Hermione said in a quiet voice, "Hello Mr Malfoy. How are you feeling?"

She wasn't surprised when Malfoy gave her cold look and said, "Like chocolate frogs and blood pops Mudblood."

Giving him a tight smile she responded, "I am glad to hear that Mr Malfoy. If I may ask, could you please call me Healer Granger. As I told Mr Zabini earlier, while we may have gone to school together, this is my professional occupation, and as such, my position does need to be acknowledged when you address me."

The look on Malfoy's face indicated that he would rather eat Mandrake pus than call her 'Healer Granger'. She had long ago stopped caring about the name 'Mudblood' and she recognized that this was the only defence Malfoy really had left against her. If she was in his position and he was her Healer, she would be far from impressed, so she could understand that he was feeling resentful for his current predicament. It was only her duty to act professional to all her patients that was stopping her from calling him a slimy ferret after all, so a few names she could deal with.

Choosing to interrupt the silence that had settled between them after her announcement that he was to call her 'Healer', Hermione briskly said, 'I am going to run a few tests on you Mr Malfoy. These won't hurt at all, but they will tell me if there is anything that is considered to be a problem in your recovery at present." Arching her eyebrows, she continued, "These tests will also tell me if you are in any pain."

Hermione felt a satisfied smirk playing around her lips at Malfoy's scowl at her use of the word 'pain'. Clearly he was trying to hide it from her. Ignoring the glaring blonde, Hermione raised her wand and muttered out some brief words and watched as Malfoy's magical aura reflected back to her what she wanted to know. Nutritionally, he was well nourished as a result of the various spells and potions that had been forced into him, but he was hungry. He was well hydrated and there was nothing out of the ordinary wrong with his vital organs; his liver appeared to be suffering the consequences of his lifestyle, but that was to be expected. The spell that detected pain sparked Hermione's interest however, as it appeared that Malfoy was indeed a better actor than she could have ever fathomed; he should be delirious from the pain that his brain was communicating to his body.

Cancelling the charms, Hermione placed her wand back into its sheath and stared at Malfoy in shock. He looked pale, and his eyes twitched every now and then, but he stared back at her with resolve of steel, refusing to admit to her how much pain he was in. Sighing, she moved away from the bed towards the potions cabinet at the other end of the room. Half way there, she remembered that her spells had indicated that Malfoy was experiencing hunger pangs, so she sent off a patronus to the kitchens requesting food for her patient. Normally the house elves of St Mungo's sent breakfast, lunch and dinner to every patient, but given Malfoy's coma, he had not been receiving meals. It was time to rectify that now that was he was conscious.

As she reached the potions cabinet, Hermione turned her head to look back at Malfoy and noticed that he was pinching the bridge of his nose and his face was scrunched up in one of pain again. She could see his slim form shaking under the sheet and she wouldn't be surprised if he was feeling the urge to vomit. Shaking her head at the pitiful sight, she focussed her attentions on the potions she would need.

With her back still turned to him, she said loudly, "I can't help you unless you tell me what you have taken Mr Malfoy." It felt so wrong to address him so formally, but her position required it. She expected to slip back to 'Malfoy' or 'Ferret Face' one of these days.

Malfoy didn't respond and she didn't press an answer. If there was ever a stubborn patient, Malfoy would be it. Finishing with the potions, she turned back to his bed and watched him closely as she walked towards him. She knew it wouldn't take her long to get him looking healthier, but how she was going to get his cooperation for the rehabilitation process, she didn't know.

"I need you to drink these for me," Hermione said as she placed the two flasks on the little table next to him. One was a bright orange colour while the other was a clear thick looking liquid.

Malfoy eyed them suspiciously. "Why should I?"

Hermione sighed and rubbed her eyes before answering, "Because I have told you so. You're in my care Mr Malfoy, so you do exactly what I tell you to, understand?"

Malfoy grumbled something under his breath but Hermione ignored him. She watched critically as he raised the orange fluid to his nose and sniffed, before downing the contents in three gulps. Hermione knew from experience that the harmless looking clear liquid wasn't as easy to take and she was prepared to argue with the blonde to force him to take it. She was however pleasantly surprised to discover that he knew exactly what to do. Malfoy raised his left hand and pinched his nose as he tipped his head back and gently shook the flask to encourage the contents to slowly tip out.

With a grimace, her school enemy slammed the empty flask back onto the table. "Are you done here now? I've taken your medicine Granger. Stop flapping around me."

Hermione withheld a retort by pressing her teeth together tightly as she flicked her wand at the flasks making them disappear. Withdrawing from the surroundings of his bed, she walked back to her desk seething silently. How she was going to make it through helping this Prat she wasn't sure.

A clattering in the hall outside the ward made her look up and divert her course of movement to the door. Opening it carefully, she stepped backwards just in time to avoid being run over by a heavily laden food cart. A tiny house elf- whose ears could just be seen over the top of the cart- was pushing it, and Hermione had to smile at the wee creature. St. Mungo's employed their house elves, so Hermione did not feel the need to constantly harass management about equal rights.

The elf wheeled the cart over to Malfoy's bed and after conversing quietly with the blonde, the elf snapped its fingers and a small bowl of pumpkin soup was placed on Malfoy's bedside table. Secretly Hermione approved of Malfoy's choice of food; after nothing solid for at least a week, his body would take time to digest food properly.

As Malfoy ate his soup with all the grace and dignity of a pure blood, Hermione sat at her desk and watched him. Colour was returning to his face, but he still looked far from well. Hermione decided that Malfoy would probably appreciate a shower, and after he had finished eating, she asked him so.

While it was clear Malfoy was disgruntled at having to respond in the positive to her, he accepted the shower. "It just means that I will have to be in the bathroom with you Malfoy..." Hermione added after he had said yes. The look of horror on his face was enough to make Hermione give in and let a small giggle escape her mouth.

Which was made all the more funnier when Malfoy glared at her; her and him in a bathroom together? Him and her in a bathroom- with him naked? Dear Merlin! Never in Hogwarts would she have ever imagined this scenario!

Malfoy's loud scoff was clear in room and broke her out of her current inner hysterical state.

"No way. Give me my wand and I'll scourgify myself instead. I don't care about whatever rules and regulations this stupid place has, but I am not showering with you in the room with me."

Hermione ignored the "Fucking Mudblood germs" addition that he uttered under his breath after finishing his protest and said instead, "Malfoy, cool it. I'm joking. I only have to ensure that there is nothing sharp in the bathroom and that the door is unlocked."

The death glare Malfoy sent her would have fried a lesser woman. As it was, Hermione just smiled pleasantly and offered her hand to him to help him out of the bed. As expected, Malfoy scorned her arm as he pushed the blankets back and twisted so that his feet were facing the ground. Sweat was beginning to bead along his forehead and Hermione hovered closely in case he passed out or collapsed.

As it was, upon Malfoy trying to hold his weight on his legs, he started to wobble but remained standing. His breathing was elevated and his face was flushed from the exertion, but he appeared confident in his ability to make it across the room to the bathroom unassisted. Hermione watched as Malfoy took slow uneven steps in the right direction, but she knew his energy couldn't last long. As she had predicted, he wasn't even half way across the room before his left knee gave way and he started to crash towards the ground involuntarily.

As she would have done with any other patient, Hermione flicked her wand to cushion the ground Malfoy was about to meet hip first. She heard a sharp hiss leave his mouth as he made contact and she had to refrain herself from moving forwards to assist him. It didn't take a genius to realise that her offering help would only piss him off even more. Malfoy sat slumped on the floor for a few moments before he attempted to rise. Hermione chewed her lip as she watched him struggle and in the end she had to give in and do her duty to her patient. "Mr Malfoy please, let me help you," she said as she walked closer to his side with her hand out.

Malfoy didn't look up but his voice made his feelings on the matter very clear. "No one asked you, Mudblood."

Hermione was fairly sure she had heard a similar version of that line in her second year right before the slug eating incident with Ron. At least he didn't call her filthy. That was certainly a step up.

Withdrawing her hand, Hermione stood to her full height. "If you insist Mr Malfoy." Turning away from him, she flicked her wand towards the door and watched as her patronus once again whizzed away. She could have used a levitating charm on him to help Malfoy get to the bathroom, but she knew if he wasn't strong enough for walking, he would barely stand through a shower.

It didn't take long for her summons to be answered and a trainee Healer to rush into the room. "Thank you for coming so quickly Trainee Bolte," she greeted the young man. "We have a slight problem here, and I was wondering if you could help Mr Malfoy bathe. Unfortunately he is still rather weak and unable to stand by himself."

From the corner of her eye, Hermione saw Malfoy's head shoot up and turn in her direction. Once again, she didn't need to look at him to know what he was feeling. Anger, embarrassment, pain.

Cravings.

Hermione watched as Trainee Bolte moved towards Malfoy and bent down to wrap his arm around Malfoy's waist pulling him up. With slow steps the two men moved towards the bathroom door neither one speaking.

As the door shut with a click, Hermione sunk onto the nearest bed and ran a hand through her hair. Since Malfoy had woken up she had experienced a broad range of emotions and she knew she was bound to end up in a conflict situation with the blonde prat before long.

Merlin help her!

* * *

**As usual, let me know what you think. Like my other WIP, The Housemate, this storyline is one that I have not come across on FF. Draco and drugs, yes, but I will be taking this story to different heights and therefore is not the average drug fic. **

**:)**


	4. An unexpected departure

**New update. Thanks for the followers and favs! Thanks to my reviewers!**

**J.K Rowling owns all Harry Potter names and spells.**

* * *

February 22, 2004.

Malfoy had been under her charge for nineteen days when things took a turn for the worse between them. Since regaining consciousness, the two had come to heads about a number of different things from the amount of light in the room to the scratching of her quill as she made notes about his progress.

Her patient hadn't given her a clue as to what he had taken, so Hermione was aiming at educating him as best as she could instead of offering potions to help minimise the drug's effects on his body. If he was too stubborn to let her help him, then she was prepared to let him suffer through the pain of withdrawal without medicinal assistance. He had handled it well in her presence during the first two weeks of the withdrawal, but the notes from her co-worker indicated that it had been the nights that saw him at his worst. She was rather proud- in an objective way of course- of Malfoy's strength in not having gone crazy at the sudden withdrawal and for maintaining a strong charade while in her presence.

Based on her observations, Malfoy didn't seem suicidal, nor did he seem depressed in any way. He complained as frequently as she remembered from school and he criticized everything about her from her hair to the practical shoes on her feet. Nothing about Draco Malfoy had changed in the years since graduation, but as she knew herself, looks could be deceiving.

Draco had attended a seminar hosted by the hospital about healthy living and the effects that drugs and alcohol could have on a body. He had suffered through numerous lectures from her about how to prepare himself to resist the temptations that could come from being around friends who did drugs and from drinking. She based his education on the belief that he was a social user and so was influenced by others taking them or by the presence of alcohol.

Her personal experience with drugs was entirely different to his, and she knew what her trigger was, so she knew how important it was for Malfoy to understand his. Malfoy had sat through her lectures with grouchy reluctance and had constantly interrupted her with snide remarks.

The latest argument had occurred after Hermione had suggested that Draco keep a journal to record his feelings about his rehabilitation treatment. It was a technique that Hermione often used with other patients, and the feedback indicated that a lot of people found it therapeutic to write their angry thoughts and hopes for the future down. Having so much physical pain as well as too many thoughts was something Hermione was well aware of and believed was a good technique for clearing the mind.

Malfoy on the other hand had scoffed and threw his goblet of water (made from a metal, not glass) across the room towards her while screaming at her about being 'a stupid Mudblood bitch' that didn't know anything about his thoughts. Had she have been able to, Hermione would have rolled her eyes at the use of 'Mudblood'. Pure bloods were so unoriginal. Hermione knew that in the Muggle world there were many ways to insult a person about their colour, gender, race, sexuality and political beliefs. But in the Wizarding World it was just Mudblood this and Mudblood that, and she had been subjected to that word so many times in Malfoy's presence that it just grew meaningless.

As it was, the force of Malfoy's violent throw caused a dent in the wall of the room and liquid slapped heavily against the ground as gravity did its work. Hermione stood frozen meters from where the goblet impacted and stared at the blonde man with the first sign of fear that she had felt in his presence. Looking her square in the face from his position on his bed, he growled, "Get me your supervisor Granger."

Malfoy's words brought her out of her shocked daze and she cocked her head as she stared at him. What was he getting at? Not once had he asked to see her supervisor. But it appeared he hadn't finished his demands when he raised himself out of the bed and with more confidence than two weeks ago, stood and started walking toward her, gaining ground with every word he said. "And then I want you to contact Blaise and get him to come and get me." Once in front of her, he bent close and narrowed his eyes at her before harshly saying, "I am getting the FUCK-" at this word he slammed his left hand into the wall next to her head, "-out of this shit hole!"

Hermione- trapped between an angry patient and a wall, had absolutely no idea what to make of the situation. So she did what she did best and calmly stepped around him and sent off a Patronus to Healer Moss requesting her immediate presence. She had experienced angry and confused patients before, so this was nothing new. It was just ridiculous that Malfoy thought that he could intimidate her. Once her Patronus had scampered away, she turned back to face Malfoy with a look of boredom- she had literally done this at least ten times before with other patients.

While Hermione knew that Malfoy would not like being told to keep a journal, she did not expect the reaction that she got. She had been so sure that she could help him, and he appeared to be doing better physically as well. He had his natural pale colour back and not the grayish complexion that she first saw him sporting. His hair was back to its well groomed state and he had gained his strength back after eating a good number of decent meals.

Looking him directly in the eye, she said, "Mr Malfoy I must request that you return to your bed. Healer Moss will be here shortly. Unfortunately it is not visiting hours, and as you are in no deadly peril, I cannot contact Mr Zabini for you." At the end of her little speech, she primly sat in her desk chair and crossed her legs, surveying him like he was a test animal in a cage just to infuriate him more.

For his part, Malfoy looked stunned that she had refused his demands. He was glaring at her from his spot by the wall- he hadn't moved since she had slipped past him- and he was imagining all sorts of violent ways for her to die by his hands. He couldn't feel the need for a hit of the drug, but he still craved the sensations that the pink powder would bestow on his body and mind. He was tired of Granger's presence, and he quite simply had no desire to 'get clean', so this whole fiasco had been a great waste of his time.

When Healer Moss arrived three minutes later, she found Draco Malfoy standing by a wall that had trails of liquid running down it and Hermione Granger sitting in her seat inspecting her nails. Raising an eyebrow at the situation, she summoned a chair and sat down near Healer Granger's desk. Feeling the eyes of both occupants on her, Healer Moss cleared her throat then stared down at the other Healer in the room.

"Healer Granger, could you please enlighten me as to why my presence has been summoned."

Hermione- ever the professional- delicately uncrossed then recrossed her legs before speaking. "I actually don't know myself Healer Moss. I was just suggesting to Mr Malfoy that he keep a journal to document how he feels he is doing with the rehabilitation, and then he threw his goblet at me." Hermione shrugged before continuing. "I mean I've had plenty of hostile patients before, but I genuinely don't know what Mr Malfoy has to be angry about."

_Ok, maybe tiny white lie there_, a small voice snarked in the back of Hermione's head as she flicked her eyes to Malfoy's. Malfoy was glaring at her and Hermione quickly averted her gaze back to her boss.

"That's fucking bullshit Granger and you know it!" Malfoy growled at her.

Both Healer Moss and Hermione ignored his little sentence, but it was Healer Moss who spoke. "Mr Malfoy, has there been a problem in the way that Healer Granger has treated you?"

Malfoy scoffed but did not answer. He knew as well as they did that his treatment- while given to him by someone less than satisfactory- was adequate. Hermione Granger was one of the best in her field, and he knew he could not claim otherwise.

"My treatment has been fine. In fact, I would like to discharge myself this afternoon. I have learnt all that-" Malfoy swallowed and his face took on a sour look as he said the next words, "-Healer Granger can teach me."

Hermione stood suddenly and accidentally knocked her chair backwards. "What?!" she demanded of the man. There was no way Malfoy could be allowed to self discharge. She knew he wasn't prepared to go back to the outside world. Sure, he did not have the drug in his system anymore, and the withdrawal symptoms had disappeared, but his mindset to stay clean and his ability to resist temptation were non-existent.

Draco Malfoy had been raised to be a man who expected instant self-gratification. If he so much as had an urge for the drug he had been taking, he would go to any lengths to get it. Self-restraint was hard for abusers; Hermione knew this from personal experience.

Malfoy looked at her with one faint blonde eyebrow raised. "I said I am requesting to self-discharge Granger. It's not a difficult thing to grasp. You've clearly reached your limits on what you can teach me, and I quite simply want out."

Hermione looked to her boss in bafflement. There was no way the older woman would allow such a thing! If he was released, Hermione had absolutely no doubt that he would fall back into old habits. Casual use, serious abuse, it didn't really matter- her job was to make his resistance to temptation stronger, and she hadn't achieved that just yet.

Healer Moss was looking at Malfoy with an expression of deep thought while Hermione and Malfoy glared at one another. Finally with a sigh, she said out loud, "I'm sorry Healer Granger, but if Mr Malfoy is requesting self discharge, I am not able to stop him from leaving. Like the reports show, he has completed satisfactory rehabilitation, and even though he was brought in involuntary, there is no Ministry order requesting that he not be released. If Mr Malfoy feels that he is ready to be discharged, then there is nothing anyone in this hospital can do to keep him from leaving."

Hermione stared at her boss in disbelief while Malfoy stared at her with a smug expression on his face. If they had kept him here, he would have demanded that Blaise bring him a lawyer. Sworn to secrecy of course. Sure it would have cost him a pretty galleon, but at least he would no longer be confined to the same room as the Mudblood Bitch for days on end.

"Is there anyone we can call to come get you Mr Malfoy?" Healer Moss asked as she walked to his bed and reached for his file.

Malfoy pursed his lips as though he was considering it, but shook his head in the negative as he too walked towards his bed. Hermione was still standing by her desk looking from Malfoy to her boss with a look of disapproval on her face.

She knew the hospital could not legally keep him there as he had met the minimum requirements for treatment and had attended enough education sessions to have an idea of how to deal with the outside world. But Hermione wasn't stupid and she knew Malfoy had no intention of ever taking anything over the past few weeks seriously.

She watched as Healer Moss went through the discharge papers with him. Grabbing her wand, she approached them and flicked her hand towards the bed to get rid of the sheets that Malfoy had been sleeping on. She saw Malfoy raise his head and raise his eyebrow at her as he drawled, "So eager to get rid of me Mudblood?"

Meeting his eyes, Hermione refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her riled up. Choosing to be the bigger person- she was still a professional regardless of their past- Hermione approached Healer Moss' other side and filled out the information she had to as his Healer.

Once Malfoy had his rather meagre selection of possessions shrunk and placed in his pocket, he was led out of the ward by both Healers towards the floo hall.

Forgoing any other words, Malfoy grabbed a handful of powder, stepped into the fireplace and shouted out "16 Willingham Way." Just before his disappearance, Hermione saw the look of smug satisfaction sent directly her way.

"Stupid ferret," Hermione muttered under her breath as she and her boss turned away from the fireplace and walked back to the nurse's station. They were met with a small commotion in the form of Blaise Zabini yelling at the receptionist.

Knowing that he was most likely there for Malfoy, Hermione stepped forward. With angry eyes, Zabini looked at her and demanded that she tell him where Draco was. With a steady voice, Hermione responded, "Mr Malfoy has just left Mr Zabini. He chose to self discharge himself earlier to-" Hermione trailed off as the expression on Zabini's face went from angry to fucking furious.

"He did what?! And you idiots let him? Do you have any bloody idea of what he's going to do next?"

Both Hermione and Healer Moss stepped back at his apparent rage, and Hermione could see one of the assistants behind the desk discreetly calling for a security wizard.

Raking his hand through his dark hard, Zabini muttered, "Screw this shit!" before he shot another angry glare at Hermione and then stormed off in the direction of the floo hall.

Deciding to follow him, Hermione quickly said as such to her boss before scurrying away down the hall. She arrived just in time to see Zabini grab a handful of floo powder and shout "16 Willingham Way," before he disappeared in green flames.

Hermione let out a sharp gust of air and rubbed her temples as she stared into the now empty fire.

It didn't take a genius to know that this would not end well.

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**:) **

**The coming chapters to be updated soon were actually the inspiration for this fic. The next chapter is what I wrote first, but then added these four chapters in to complement the story I am weaving. **

**As I have rated this T, is the language I am using too much? It is just how I imagine Draco speaking in anger and Blaise in stress...**


	5. An unexpected voice

**J.K. Rowling owns all Harry Potter names and spells. **

**I should have mentioned earlier, but for the purposes of this fic, Blaise's father is not dead. Let's say that his mother is dead instead. **

**This chapter contains violence. And some twisted (like seriously twisted) thoughts on Draco's part. Just a heads up. **

* * *

2 years later, February 28 2006.

Damn stupid parents. Always messing things up.

Draco glared into his glass of fire whiskey wishing he could throw it at someone. The glass that is; obviously he would drink the contents first. He had already drunk five glasses of the stuff, but it wasn't enough.

It never was enough.

Draco lifted his finger- the international sign for 'give me another drink'- to the bar man who simply shook his head but complied with the silent request.

Draco had every intention of getting wasted tonight.

His mother had sprung on him earlier that day over lunch that she expected him to tell his father about her new marriage. Lucius had been in Azkaban for the past eight years since the war, and his mother- the ever needy pure blood witch- had divorced his ass faster than one could say 'dementor'.

Draco had no illusions as to why his mother had dumped his father. Lucius was cold and vicious and in Azkaban he had lost access to his accounts. Narcissa, the queen of pure blood society couldn't have that. For six months she had put on a show of grief for the loss of her husband, but as soon as the paperwork for the divorce had been finalised, Narcissa had sunk her claws into the line of eligible bachelors that weren't 18 and the killer of Voldemort. That had been eight years ago, and since then, she had gone from one rich wizard to another, finally settling on the Zabini Lord.

Draco had no problems with his mother remarrying; he wasn't drinking because of that. He wasn't drinking because she was marrying his best mate's father either.

No, Draco Malfoy was drinking because he could. He knew he would be the one to have to tell his father that Narcissa was remarrying. Just thinking about having to go back to that haunting place made Draco shudder; he had spent more than enough time there to last him a couple of lifetimes since his father had been incarcerated. Draco scowled again and knocked back his sixth drink of the night with an easy and well practiced grace.

The burn of fire whisky had faded long ago on a dark windy night. His father had been bundled up with the rest of the Death Eaters and Draco had been alone and angry. He had thrown chairs around and had screamed at the walls for the better part of the night. Finally after four hours, Draco had screamed himself hoarse and allowed himself to collapse onto the cold stone floor and cry. When he had no more tears left to cry, Draco had drank.

Years on, he could still remember the hangover he had received from that night.

Pulling himself out of his depressing memories, Draco indicated his desire for another drink. He knew he was getting pretty intoxicated, but he just didn't care. He picked up the glass and swirled it around, letting the amber liquid move gracefully around.

"I think you've had enough now Malfoy."

Draco jumped at the unexpected sound and spun around, whipping out his wand and dropping his glass to the floor in the process. He wasn't totally intoxicated yet and his reflexes still worked. Nevertheless, he gazed up at a head full of brown hair and had to blink his eyes a few times to focus them. Surely he was seeing things, right?

A small warm hand came down to rest upon his and lowered his wand. "Let me take you home."

_What the actual fuck?_

Clearly he had overestimated his sobriety and his brain was now a mushy puddle of toxic goo. There was no way this woman- who greatly resembled that annoying Mudblood Granger- would be taking him home. He didn't do 'home' and 'woman' in the same sentence when he was sober, and there was no way in hell he was doing it after just six drinks.

_Fuck that shit._

Stumbling gracelessly to his feet, Draco narrowed his eyes and tried to work out what the joke was. Clearly there was one. This woman in front of him looked too much like the Mudblood and Draco was not impressed. He must be hallucinating. Maybe taking that Pixie Dust before coming to the bar wasn't the best thing to have done.

Draco closed his eyes and breathed deeply. There was a persistent itch along his arm- right where the warmth from the hand that still held him centred- that he needed to scratch but he couldn't muster the energy to move his hands; he was too busy trying to breathe properly and not throw the contents of his stomach up on the floor.

Suddenly the itch left and he felt something cool touch his hand. Draco's eyes flew open in shock and he was greeted with that annoying vision again; his subconscious was clearly in the process of having a meltdown. His brain's version of 'fucked up in graphics' was the body of Hermione Granger pressing a glass of clear liquid into his hands.

Looking down warily- surely this was some crazy side effect of the Pixie Dust, right?- Draco inspected the glass. It looked legit and Draco lifted it to his nose to sniff. It wasn't smoking or green, so he decided it was safe enough. If he was going to die, he might as well do it with a quick swallow. And poison would end the night quicker. His concerns were unfounded when the cool flavourless taste of water greeted his dry mouth, and Draco greedily downed the contents.

He felt his body being guided to sit down by the hallucination, and Draco just couldn't find the energy to care anymore. It could have been worse; his brain could have come up with red hair or glasses. He was fairly sure he would have committed suicide if he was being assaulted by the sight of Weasley.

"You need to drink Draco." The hallucination was pressing another glass into his hands.

Fuck yes he needed to drink. It was just a shame that the glass didn't contain what he wanted. Suddenly- hallucination be damned- Draco needed to get out of the bar. He stood abruptly and swayed for a second trying to get his bearings. That damn hallucination was still there and it was now standing in his way.

Damn it moved fast! He wished his brain could make his body move as fast as it let his hallucinations move.

_And just how much had he drunk that night?_

_Well_, Draco decided, _two could play this game_. Standing as tall as he could, Draco stared down his hallucination. He really must have inhaled a dodgy batch of Goyle's Pixie Dust to be having such a severe side effect. Draco vaguely wondered how he looked glaring at an invisible body, but then he remembered where he was, and random people staring at nothing was a common occurrence in this particular bar.

He didn't know how long he was stood there staring at the Mudblood but his stomach was beginning to feel funny and Draco knew he had to get out of there. He decided to simply walk through the fake image of Granger; Malfoy's stepped aside for no one, not even hallucinations.

He strode forward maintaining eye contact with the fake Mudblood Bitch and smirked. He was going to go home and forget about this unfortunate situation. He was sure he had some aged fire whiskey in his cupboard, and it sure as hell tasted better than the watered down shit he had been served all night. In fact, why did he insist on leaving the sanctuary of his house just to spend a couple of hours in a rundown bar?

As Draco neared the graphic representation of Gryffindor's Princess and the most annoying Healer at St Mungo's, he had to grudgingly give it to his subconscious; it was doing a mighty fine job of making it look like Granger was real. Somewhere in the back of his mind Draco considered foregoing all alcohol in the future if he was starting to hallucinate; clearly his brain was starting to rebel. Unfortunately he did not get time to explore that thought as he rather abruptly walked into a solid wall of flesh where the image of the Mudblood had been.

He started to panic. The hallucination felt too real. What the heck had the bar man given him? No wait, what the fuck had Goyle given him? There was going to be hell tomorrow; assuming he survived the night first.

Draco immediately started to feel queasy. He had to get out of there. Now. Swallowing his Malfoy pride, Draco tried to step around the solid hallucination, but for some unknown reason, it countered his movement thus effectively blocking him off once again.

"_Way to go brain, way to go_," Draco muttered sarcastically to himself. What kind of crazy shit had Goyle given him? Since when could hallucinations feel real and counter your movements?

He really needed to get out. His stomach was roiling and his vision was starting to get even more blurry. His sanity was also slipping, judging by the words that came out of his mouth in a snarl.

"Move it Granger,"

The hallucination just shook its head and didn't say anything.

Frustrated, Draco stepped back and then rushed forwards, thinking he could trick his drug and alcohol addled brain into getting rid of the image of Granger. No such luck; he just ran into the wall of flesh again.

Draco's eyes darted around the bar and he tried breathing in. He was feeling trapped and he just wanted this whole day to have been a horrible dream. He was beginning to hyperventilate and his head was feeling too light. Suddenly he knew he was about to make a fool of himself; he could no longer ignore his stomach and the stupid Granger hallucination clearly wasn't going to move for him.

Scrunching his eyes up hoping it was all a bad dream and he would wake up, Draco threw up the contents of his lunch and six fire whiskey's all over the feet of the fucked up image of Hermione Granger.

And then he promptly passed out.

* * *

The next day, 1 March, 2006.

Draco came back into consciousness with the persistent need to go to the toilet. He tried to open his eyes but found the light to be too bright, so he closed them again and buried himself further under his blankets.

He was by no means hung over- hell, he had only managed six drinks last night- but his head throbbed painfully regardless. He figured it was probably all the Pixie Dust he snorted the day before; that shit was strong. It had given him the worst dream he had had in a long time and he considered himself mentally traumatized from it.

"Oh good, you're awake. I was beginning to worry."

Ignoring the pain in his head and the searing light, Draco shot up out of bed and looked wildly around the room. He couldn't see anyone and Draco let out a shaky laugh and mumbled, "Keep it cool Draco. You're just imagining things," as he pushed aside the bed sheets and picked up his discarded green silk bath robe. On shaky legs, he carefully navigated his way through the mess of his bedroom into the adjoining bathroom, needing his morning piss and hit of Dust.

He let out a soft sigh of pleasure as he released his bladder. After finishing, Draco ambled across to the bathroom bench where he had left his pouch of Dust last night. He drew up quick when he realised that there was nothing sitting behind the tap. It was always there, his little pouch of paradise, so why the heck was it missing? Draco pulled open the shaving cabinet and knocked over potions in his search for his pouch of Dust.

He needed his hit. He was already beginning to feel nauseous and his legs- which while slightly shaking before were reaching unsteady proportions now- were struggling to hold him up. He seriously did not know what he would do without it. What the fuck had he done when he got home last night? He remembered downing the six shots and then dreaming about the Mudblood bitch, so he must have arrived home at some point before going to bed. Not remembering things was a common occurrence for him after taking Dust, and Draco could not recall anything about last night besides from the six drinks.

_Maybe I took more hits when I got home_, Draco mused to himself as calmly as his rising need for the Dust would allow. He left the bathroom on unsteady feet and with less care this time, making his way to his kitchen. In his haste, he tripped on a lone black boot and he cursed out loud as his face and the carpet became acquainted. The need for the Dust was starting to take hold and Draco had never gone longer than eight hours between hits without causing extensive damage to property or himself. He figured he was bordering on the eight hour mark judging by his body's reactions, and Draco was in no mood to have Blaise find him passed out on the floor in a puddle of blood again like he had six years ago.

Draco needed his hit, and he needed it now.

He frantically started searching his kitchen draws and cupboards and after drawing up blank, he then dived for the couches. A cool voice interrupted his search of the cushions and Draco jumped backwards crashing into the wooden coffee table in shock.

"Looking for this?"

That damn bloody voice again! Shaking his head, Draco straightened himself up, ignoring the painful throbbing on his shoulder where he had hit it against the table, and recommenced his search of the couch cushions. He was getting desperate now.

He considered the possibility that he took a hit last night in bed before falling asleep, and so he started towards his bedroom door, only to be stopped by a figure blocking his doorway. He let out a yelp and jumped backwards. "Shit, what the hell?!"

Mudblood Granger was stood in his doorway with her feet planted firmly apart and her arms crossed. Draco knew he wasn't dreaming anymore; the need for the Dust would have woken him long ago, and he didn't have enough Dust- or alcohol for that matter- in him to make him hallucinate. Mudblood Granger really was standing in his house.

Draco started to panic. He couldn't work out which was the bigger priority; finding the Dust or dealing with the Mudblood.

He did not need to agonize over it for long as Granger shifted her position and Draco noticed his green velvet Dust pouch clenched in her hand. Without giving it second thought, Draco launched himself at Granger, unsteady legs be damned. He needed that pouch; how dare she touch what was his!

His aggressive movement seemed to have startled the Mudblood because she froze and looked terrified as he charged towards her. The next thing Draco knew, he had pinned the bitch to his wall with one of his hands covering her throat squeezing tightly and the other gripping both her wrists above her head. Suddenly, a painful kick was administered to his left shin and Draco swore loudly. He crowded closer to her body, slamming his hips into her stomach and stood mercilessly on her feet.

Bending down and leaning in close to the woman's face, Draco spat, "Don't you ever put your filthy Mudblood hands on my things Granger."

Draco watched as the woman trapped against the wall recoiled as best she could to escape from his spit- or it might have been from his tight grip on her throat- but her eyes glared into his own, mocking him. She looked like she wanted to speak, so Draco maliciously tightened his grip on her throat causing her to let out a slight choking sound, much to his satisfaction. He could feel her knees trying to flex but he knew she did not possess the strength to push him away.

"Let me put this to you clearly Mudblood. I don't know what you are doing in my apartment, or what the hell you are doing with my things, but let me tell you that this is the last time you will ever have the chance to interfere in anyone's life again." As he spoke, he tightened his grip on her neck even more and watched with fascination as her eyes began to water and her mouth dropped open in silent pleading. She was breathing in shallow gasps now and Draco knew from experience that she would be starting to black out soon.

Good, the quicker she was gone the better. Draco could feel the need to have his fix racing through his body, but he had to deal with Granger first. The warring needs were making his heart beat faster and perspiration beaded on his face. As he watched the woman in front of him struggle, Draco allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to snort the Dust off of her dead body. He had once had the misfortune of seeing her half naked, and cutting a line on her taut stomach made Draco's mouth water. Absently watching her, he planned in his mind what he would do once she was dead. He would place her dead body on the cold tile floor and rip open her shirt; she didn't deserve the respect of the dead, nor to lie in peace. He wondered what he would do with her bra; as much as it disgusted him to admit, she had fucking beautiful tits. Maybe he would cut his line down the valley of her breasts. Her pants would stay on, that was for sure; Draco wasn't going to become some perverted freak who got off on a dead girl's nether regions.

Sure she was filthy, but fuck, the knowledge that it was a dead Granger made the idea of getting his fix that much sweeter.

Draco breathed hard in exhilaration as he felt the woman in front of him begin to sag against his body as her resistance began to wane. He twisted the fingers of the hand holding her wrists and extracted his pouch from her grip.

He was so close.

His mouth was salivating at the thought of finally getting his fix, and his heart was pumping his blood strongly in his veins. His straining legs were tiring, but he knew that soon, soon they could give in and he could collapse on the floor with his Dust.

From behind him a noise was heard, but Draco couldn't give a damn if it was Voldemort himself coming for a visit from the grave. He was so focussed on the pouch, so focussed on the Mudblood's slowly purpling face, so focussed on finally having his Dust that he was didn't realise that someone had entered the room and was now staring in shock at the sight of Draco pressed against the woman held against the wall.

"What the fuck is going on here?!"

* * *

**Too much? This is the first of two violent scenes I have written for this story.**

**Thanks heaps for all the follows and favs! Reviews make me smile! **

**Hermione's story will be explained soon. All in good time. **

**Anyone else doing NaNoWriMo on here?**


	6. An unexpected traitor

**J.K.R owns all Harry Potter names and spells.**

**This chapter contains drug use. Just a heads up. Also, language- but this will only ever be so graphic from Draco POV.**

* * *

Suddenly, without time to respond to the voice, Draco was thrown backwards by an invisible force. His body flew through the air and he landed hard, smashing into his glass dining table. His impact caused the surface to give in and shatter, and he landed on his back surrounded by millions of shards of glass.

Before he could get over the shock of the impact, golden ropes wrapped around him tightly effectively immobilizing him.

Draco screamed in anger and frustration and started to kick and buck against the ropes, ignoring the searing pain of the glass he was lying in begin to imbed itself deeply into his skin. He was so fucking close! He was cursing viciously as he watched the curse thrower rush towards the woman slumped on the ground.

The betrayal and anger that swept through Draco's body was like a rusty blade to the heart; his best mate was saving the Mudblood bitch. His best mate had thrown him backwards into the glass table and tied him up. His best mate was letting him fucking bleed out while he tried to save someone of unworthy blood.

Draco could barely breathe from the pain of the betrayal. It was the single most excruciating experience of his life. He watched in horror as his best friend crouched down beside the still form of the Mudblood- well at least she was dead- and waved his wand over her.

"Blaise, no!" Draco couldn't hold the scream in, and it came out in a tone he didn't even recognize as his own. Couldn't Blaise see? The Mudblood bitch had his Dust. She had touched his pouch and she needed to die! He was doing the world a favour by killing her. Why was Blaise trying to save her? Draco started to struggle against his bonds again and shifted his head to see if he could get his hands to escape. He was momentarily stunned as he caught sight of a large shard of glass sticking out of his chest, but before he could give it anymore thought, he saw it. His pouch. After wrenching it from Granger, it had stayed in his grip even after being thrown backwards by Blaise.

Suddenly, before he could even register in his mind the implications of what he was seeing, Draco was hit with a spell that he recognized instantly; he had just been stunned.

His best friend had just stunned him when he was so close to finally getting his fix. In his mind, Draco was screaming. Blaise would pay for this, Draco swore it.

With nothing else to do but watch Blaise bend over Granger, Draco began to fantasize the best ways in which to seriously harm his mate. And if Granger was somehow alive, he could think of many ways in which to kill her.

_Bitch deserved it_, he seethed.

As Draco silently watched the two figures in front of him, he internally groaned at his bad luck. It appeared Granger was indeed alive, if her moving her hand to cover her throat was any indication. Draco watched as Blaise lifted the Mudblood up into his arms and walked them out of his line of sight. As soon as Draco was free, he was going to have a serious talk with Blaise about Slytherin loyalty.

He wasn't sure how long he had been tied up and stunned for before Blaise walked back into the room. His friend moved towards him with a purposive stride while glaring daggers at Draco. Being stunned meant that Draco could not brace himself for the physical assault that Blaise then unleashed on him.

"You bloody filthy piece of shit Malfoy. What the fuck were you thinking?" Blaise- ever the multi-tasker- alternated kicks to different parts of his body as he screamed those words. "You could have fucking killed her Draco. Do you have any idea of what that means? Or were you so far gone that you just couldn't give a shit about anything else but your stupid fucking Dust?"

If Draco could, he would have Blaise on his back and his wand drawn against the man's throat for bringing up the Dust. Draco needed it so bad, and it was in his hand, tormenting him. Of course it wasn't the fucking Dust that had caused the attack on the Mudblood; it was the fact that the bitch had touched his stuff- his pouch specifically. If she hadn't have picked it up off his bathroom bench, he could have simply dealt with her by kicking her out of his apartment.

Blaise eventually tired of kicking him after a few well placed and powerful kicks much to Draco's relief. He had a feeling something- a rib or two to be exact- had broken because of Blaise's assault. Blaise was talking to him now and Draco could only listen, much to his disgust. "Seriously mate, that was Hermione Granger. Do you have a fucking death wish? Not only has she saved your life too many times, but if you'd have killed her, you would be in Azkaban with your father faster than you could say Dementor's Kiss."

Draco watched as the boy he had known since he was eight paced backwards and forwards in front of him. Suddenly, Blaise stopped and peered down at Draco. "If I release you, will you stay put?"

If Draco could, he would have rolled his eyes and sneered. Yea, he was going to disapparate to Hawaii and buy a grass skirt and drink cocktails on the beach all day. Not. Was Blaise serious? He had an overdue date with his Dust planned as soon as he was released. He was going nowhere.

Blaise must have realised that Draco couldn't have responded even if he wanted to because of the spell he was under, and Draco all of a sudden felt the feeling come back into his. And Merlin was the pain from Blaise's attack agonizing! Draco curled his body up into a ball as he tried to ride out the initial shock of the pain, but he was conscious of the Dust pouch in his hand the whole time.

So close.

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder and realised that Blaise had crouched down. Stupid idiot, Draco thought to himself as he lashed out at his friend with his feet, taking him by surprise. Draco sprung up from his position on the floor and summoned Blaise's wand to his hand and stunned his mate. During his time with the Dark Lord, Draco had learnt a number of useful techniques and spells to disarm his opponents. Blaise should have known better than to trust Draco, especially when he was angry.

"Blaise, Blaise, Blaise," Draco tutted as he dealt a swift kick to the other man's chest. "You seem to have forgotten your Slytherin roots. What's rule number one again? Never let your guard down."

Draco stood over his friend and looked down at him in disgust. He was beyond delirious now and his legs and hands were shaking. Sweat was trickling down his back and into his eyes, but he needed Blaise to understand the infraction. "You helped a Mudblood over me, your best mate. Clearly you have forgotten rule number two: loyalty." Draco dealt another swift kick to his mate's body and sneered as he said, "I think I like you tied up and unable to talk. Your voice is fucking annoying half the time." With that being said, Draco sat down amongst the remnants of his glass table and picked up a large shard. After inspecting it and blowing off the tiny slivers of glass on it, Draco pulled out his Dust pouch and reached in for a tiny tablet. It wasn't a dead Mudblood, but for now, the glass shard would have to do.

Better make it two actually, Draco mused to himself as he pulled out two of the tiny pink tablets that would make everything fucking peachy again. Draco meticulously crushed up the tablets on the shard of glass using his pewter spatula and inspected his handiwork.

A rivulet of bright red blood made its way down his pale arm and soaked into the sleeve of his bath robe as his fingers dug into the shard of glass tightly.

So close.

He took his peacock feather out of his velvet pouch and lowered himself so that it aligned with the shard of glass. Closing his eyes, he let himself float off to wherever his Dust decided to take him this time.

Finally.

* * *

March 4, 2006

For the second time in two days, Draco awoke with the persistent need to use the toilet. He cautiously opened his eyes- he still remembered how painful the sunlight in his room had been yesterday- and froze.

.Hell?

He was not in his bedroom. Draco could not remember a time when he had not woken up in his bedroom besides from his brief stint in St. Mungo's two years ago. Where the hell was he? He tried to sit up but found that his hands were restrained by his sides.

Shit.

Draco started to panic. His need to use the toilet became secondary to his need to escape. Something was wrong; his arms were pinned to his sides and he had strange white bandages covering them.

"Oh good. You're awake."

Draco's heart stopped and then started racing. That fucking hallucination again. Didn't it get a hint? Something fluttered at the back of his mind reminding him about the dream he had had last night. It had starred the Mudblod bitch and Blaise. An odd combination, but he assumed it was just a side effect of the Dust he had taken. Strange dreams seemed to be the dominant side effect of Goyle's latest batch of Pixie Dust. While Draco didn't appreciate the dreams or the hallucinations, his need for the Dust made everything else irrelevant. Even dreams of Hermione Granger.

In fact, Draco could feel the need to take his morning hit make its presence known. Draco tried once again to move his arms, but they refused to give. He started to struggle but stopped the moment he felt a strange tugging in his stomach and then a warm wetness trickle down his ribs. What the hell? His need to find his Dust was momentarily minimized.

"You've just pulled your stitches Draco. You need to lie still or I will have to do a full body bind."

Draco looked wildly around the room. If his need for the Dust was making itself known, he clearly didn't have enough in him to make him hallucinate. There really was someone in the room with him but Draco couldn't see with his limited ability to move.

He heard soft footsteps make their way closer to him and he craned his neck to see who it was. He swore loudly when he recognized the brown hair and face of the Mudblood. Why the hell was she starring in his life so much?

He watched in horror as she walked closer to him and lifted the blanket covering his body away. He was about to throw a number of choice swear words at her for daring to touch him, but he was silenced by the amount of blood leaking from his body. Looking down, he noticed some sort of bizarre thread in amongst the blood and he started to hyperventilate.

What the hell had she done to him? Draco started to struggle against whatever invisible bonds were holding him to the table and he started to scream for help. Perhaps it wasn't his most dignified action, but he needed the Mudblood away from him before she killed him.

Suddenly, Draco spotted Blaise from the corner of his eye and began to relax; Blaise would get rid of the Mudblood. In his dream, his best mate had saved the bitch, but this wasn't a dream, and there was no way that Blaise would ever choose the Mudblood over him.

Draco watched in relief as Blaise walked over towards them. "Draco mate, you need to lay still. Granger is going to have to re-switch the switches."

The Mudblood turned away from inspecting the damage she had inflicted on his body, and looked at his best mate with a smile. "They're called stitches Zabini. Switches turn things on and off."

Blaise looked fascinated and began to murmur "Stitches. Stitches. Stitches," to himself. Draco, who has just watched the exchange in horrified silence, began to feel sick. What the hell had the Mudblood done to his best friend? And when could he get away so he could take his Dust?

"Draco, I need you to stay still all right. I need to re-stitch these wounds and if you move, I might end up making it worse."

Through the hammering in his head, Draco heard Blaise say, "I'm making Granger heal you the Muggle way Draco. The stunt you pulled the other day almost killed you. And Granger for that matter. You are going to live the rest of your life with these scars."

Draco froze. Not because of the Mudblood's words, but because of Blaise's 'the other day'.

_What the hell was Blaise playing at?_

He was drawn out of his shock by a tight pulling sensation from his chest. He noticed a silver thing in Granger's hand and he noticed how it was being stabbed through the skin on his ribs. Nausea rolled through his body. What kind of sick twisted Muggle method of torture was this? And why was Blaise just standing there allowing it to happen? "What the bloody fuck do you think you are doing Mudblood?"

_"Silencio_," Blaise murmured, as he looked down at Draco with disgust drowning his dark eyes.

Draco glared at his best mate. Blaise had just silenced him! What was going on today! "Don't ever call her a Mudblood Draco. She's saved your life despite the fact you almost killed her."

Draco was beyond confused. When had he tried to kill her? Sure he may have tried in school, but that was years ago.

"Zabini, it's OK. I expect nothing less from Malfoy."

"Granger, you've had to put up with his crap plus heal him. The least he can do is not use that word in your presence."

Draco watched as the Mudblood shrugged a shoulder and bent back over his ribs. He closed his eyes in defeat- he wasn't getting his Dust anytime soon by the looks of things- and tried to ignore the tugging sensation of the Mudblood's actions. Draco instead chose to focus on what Blaise had said moments before. When had he tried to kill Granger the other day? Sure, he dreamt about choking her, but it wasn't like he would actually go through with it. Imagine the state of his hands if he ever touched her!

It was another five minutes before either Blaise or the Mudblood talked again. "There that should do it. Malfoy, you will need to rest this OK. If you tear the stitches, it will make it even worse."

Draco rolled his eyes. It was like they didn't know magic existed. Blaise could make the Mudblood 'heal him the Muggle way', but as soon as he had his wand back, Draco was going to heal himself.

"I know what you are thinking Draco. Unless you want your mother to know about the Dust, you will _not_ heal yourself." If Draco could have sworn, he would have cursed Blaise to the sun and back.

Blaise had known about the Dust since finding Draco in his bathroom surrounded by blood. It had been a bad time for Draco; he had been under house arrest after the war, and he had been unable to leave his house to buy Dust. The only way Draco knew how to escape the need was to distract himself with pain. He had used slashing hexes on his skin, and had eventually passed out from blood loss long before Blaise had found him. It had taken five bottles of blood replenishing potion and numerous healing spells for Draco to regain consciousness and even more spells and potions for him to fully recover.

Blaise had promised not to tell Narcissa if Draco promised not to touch the Dust again. Draco, who had been badly shaken up by the extent of his addiction, had readily agreed. If his mother found out, there would be hell to pay, and despite Draco's extreme actions, he was not suicidal. This pact had lasted until five hours after Blaise had left.

Draco tried. He really did. But he was locked in his house with nothing to do; nothing to distract him. The minutes ticked by agonizingly slowly and Draco needed the Dust. It was like a persistent nagging in his head and his body couldn't function without it. Finally, in a moment of weakness where his wand and another slashing hex were looking more and more attractive, Draco sent his owl out to Goyle with ten galleons. Fifteen minutes later and Draco was splayed out on his bed in a blissful stupor.

From that day on, Draco knew he could never let Blaise know of his secret. He had done a good job of it as well, taking hits before going to see Blaise, so his friend would not notice the effects of him coming down and needing another hit. Draco had successfully lived with his deadly secret for four years.

Until two years ago when he had been stupid enough to take too much Dust and had fallen into a coma and landed himself in a ward at St Mungo's. Under the Mudblood's care. He had discharged himself after two weeks naturally, and had pretended that he had been 'cured' from his addiction. The Mudblood hadn't believed him, but had not been able to do anything about his wish to leave. She had done her job of 'educating him about the dangers of taking drugs' and so had nothing left to keep him for.

Like she even knew what it was like to take drugs. Prissy little Gryffindor probably had never had a drink of alcohol in her entire life let alone a puff of gillyweed root.

Draco knew that Blaise was mad at him. His mate had been angry after the first time he had found Draco almost dead, fucking furious the time he had landed himself in St Mungo's and by the looks of things, livid now.

"If I'd have taken you to St Mungo's unconscious, there would have been hell to pay. Once we could get away with. Twice would not have worked. You're too well known now to manage to escape a scandal. There would be a riot, not just from your parents, but from the media as well. I'm doing you a favour so don't be so fucking ungrateful. If Granger hadn't have come back with a blood replenishing potion, and pulled out all the glass in your skin, you would be in a lot worse shape. Not to mention the fact that you are STILL on the Dust. Are you out of your fucking mind!?" Blaise was breathing heavily and Draco could tell the lecture wasn't over just yet.

Sure enough, Blaise took a deep breath, closed his eyes- Draco knew his friend well enough to know that Blaise was counting to ten. When he opened them, he took another breath and spoke- albeit more calmly- once more. "You promised me you wouldn't touch it again. After last time, I really thought you valued your life more. I can't believe I've missed it for so long."

Draco watched in shock as his friend slumped into a couch near his bed with a look of defeat on his face. Draco had never seen Blaise look defeated. He had seen his friend angry and sad, but never defeated. Draco got an even bigger shock as he watched the Mudblood pull the blanket back up his body and then turn to face Blaise as she spoke, "Zabini, don't be so hard on yourself. Even addicts in the Muggle world hide it well." Draco was outraged at her audacity. How dare she compare him to a Muggle!

Draco silently fumed as he watched the Mudblood walk over to Blaise and pat him on the shoulder. He rolled his eyes in disgust as he heard Blaise murmur, "Do you mind stepping outside for a bit Granger. I'll be out in a second. I just want to talk to Draco. I could kill a cup of tea if you don't mind."

Nodding once at Blaise and then looking at Draco briefly, the Mudblood walked out the door without a backwards glance and Draco was left in the room with his old friend. Draco could feel a tingling in his hands and realised that the Mudblood must have released his arms from the sticking spell he had previously been under before exiting the room. Draco dismissed the reasons for why she would do such a thing, and focussed on Blaise. The tension could be cut with a knife and Draco watched the other man warily. Blaise could get violent easily, and Draco was still mostly restrained. He doubted he could do much with just his hands as the rest of his body was still firmly glued to the bed.

"Three days Draco." Blaise murmured as he looked at Draco intensely from his spot on the chair next to his bed. Draco watched as Blaise ran a hand through his hair and then looked back up and narrowed his eyes before shouting, "Three fucking days! Do you have any idea of what the hell I have been through?"

Draco was confused. Why was Blaise going on about 'three days'? They had seen each other yesterday when their parents had sprung the date of the marriage upon them. Draco opened his mouth to get Blaise's facts straight, but he realised he was still under the damn silencing spell. And Blaise had probably forgotten about it since he was still ranting on about something Draco had no idea of.

"I found you attempting to choke the life out of Granger against the wall, you attacked me even though you looked like one of Bellatrix's torture victims... and then you fucking do Dust in front of me and have some sort of fit before you just rolled over." Blaise went quiet for a moment as though to compose himself before speaking again. "Merlin Draco, I don't even know you anymore."

Draco was stunned.

Blaise's story made sense in a weird twisted way; Draco was either psychic since he had dreamt of pretty much the same events that Blaise was describing, or he really was a messed up son-of-a-bitch. "I've had to tell your mother you are on a business trip to Timbuktu-" Draco had to snort at that one; his mother was dim enough to believe it, "-but my father has become suspicious. Three fucking days Draco! If Granger hadn't-".

Draco's head was pounding louder by the minute, and he needed Blaise to shut up. He put his hand up to stop Blaise from continuing talking, and then gestured to himself hoping that Blaise got the message. Clearly he did, as Draco watched Blaise raise his wand and mutter the counter spell to the silencing charm.

"Blaise, just stop. Just stop OK. I have no idea why you keep saying three days. I saw you yesterday after congratulating your father on the wedding date. And where the bloody hell are we anyway?"

Blaise looked at Draco warily. "You really don't remember do you? Three days ago was the last time you saw me Draco. You were trying to kill Granger, and then you had an 'overdose'. Well, that's what Granger called it. But whatever the hell it was man, it was scary as fuck! Your eyes rolled backwards and you just lost it."

Draco noticed with interest that Blaise mentioned again about the apparent attempted murder of the Mudblood bitch. Why was it such a tragedy if she died anyway? Draco didn't even understand why the hell she was involved in his life so much; she hated him and he hated her. Actually, Draco was pretty sure he hated her more. "Blaise that doesn't tell me where the hell I am. Nor does it tell me why I have apparently lost three days of my life. I do have better things to do than listen to you mope about how Granger almost died. If I'd have had it my way, clearly she would have died."

Blaise hissed loudly and narrowed his eyes at Draco. "You ungrateful bastard. I don't know why we fucking bothered to help you. I should have taken you straight to St Mungo's and let them deal with you; the reporters and your mother would have chewed you up and spat you out faster than we managed to heal you. At least then you would feel some fucking remorse because you know what would happen if the Prophet knew about this!"

Draco did know. Addiction in the Wizarding world could spell the end of your name and reputation. It was something that could ostracize you and anyone you associated with for life. While Draco would have preferred to think that Blaise did not hand him over to St Mungo's because he himself did not want to be ostracized for being Draco's best friend and future step-brother, Draco knew that Blaise acted with Draco's best intentions in mind and not his own. Blaise had always been the selfless one; a trait that had made him stand out in Hogwarts, especially among the Slytherins, and it was a trait that Draco more than once had taken advantage of.

"So where am I? I don't think I have ever been in this particular guest room of yours before."

Blaise shuffled his feet and cleared his throat, making Draco narrow his eyes in suspicion. "Where am I Blaise." It was a demand, not a question, and Draco bit out each syllable harshly.

Blaise looked away and didn't respond.

"Blaise, where the fuck am I?"

* * *

**Thanks for the follows and reviews! **

**Any guesses as to where he is?**

**'Dust' will be explained soon, and Draco's reactions are the consequences of his addiction. His actions are important to his character development. He may seem violent now, but rest assured he will eventually get better. This story has been labelled as a romance... so yes, it will get there eventually! **

**:)**


	7. An unexpected truth

**Thanks for the favourites and follows! :)**

**J.K Rowling owns all Harry Potter names and spells.**

* * *

"Blaise, where the fuck am I?"

Blaise closed his eyes and sighed before speaking. "Hermione Granger's. Don't be ma-" he never got to finish his sentence as Draco's face turned red and if he could, Blaise knew Draco would have been up and out of the room faster than one could say 'life in Azkaban'.

"Don't be mad? Is that what you were going to say Zabini? Why the hell would you try tell me not to be mad? I'm in the bloody Mudblood's house. Merlin, what the hell were you thinking!" Draco was panting from struggling against his invisible bonds, but he knew he was weakening fast; the Dust was breaking him down slowly, and Draco knew he would have to fight to stay conscious. There was no way he was going to remain in the Mudblood's house longer than necessary, Dust withdrawal be damned.

"Where would I have taken you Draco? I couldn't have left you at your house. I had to get you away from the Dust and somewhere you could heal in peace. You would have gotten none of that at your place, you know that. I couldn't have taken you to mine; our parents are there at the moment, and your mother would have lost it if I'd have just casually apparated into the house with you half dead in my arms. Granger knew exactly how to help you without having to go to St Mungo's and so she offered for you to stay here until you were 'out from under the weather'... whatever that means."

This must be a bad dream. Even the bad dreams he had been having the past couple of nights- which might not have been dreams after all- seemed tame compared to this dream. There was no way the Mudblood would have offered to heal him, let alone let him stay in her house. The world wasn't supposed to work like that; people who hated each other did not do things like save the other's life or put a roof over the other's head. She had done her duty two years ago when he had been her patient, and that should have been where her concern for him ended.

Giving up on trying to break out of the invisible bonds, Draco laid his head back down and sighed deeply in resignation. "How long are you intending on keeping me here Blaise?"

Blaise did not answer right away, but when he did, Draco could hear the hesitation in his voice. "I've talked it over with Granger. She has said you can stay here for as long as I need you to. We are going to help you kick this addiction Draco."

Draco was stunned. Kick the addiction? No more Dust? He wasn't sure how he felt about that. The Dust was slowly eating away his insides- well, that's how it felt when he couldn't have any, and it sure as hell was what his body felt like it was going through right then- and so he hated it; hated his dependence on it, and how it could effectively control his life so that he needed to change and cancel plans he often made with friends and family in order to accommodate his need.

But on the other hand, he needed it. He needed the freedom, the flying sensation and the total lack of care about the world. Only his Dust could take him to a place where he was happy; where his mother wasn't a money seeking whore, his father wasn't in prison. Somewhere he wasn't a failed businessman.

Draco eyed Blaise warily instead of replying. Let his friend interpret the silence as he liked; Draco was neither accepting or declining this apparent 'intervention'. All he really wanted was Blaise to leave him alone so he could suffer in silence; the need to have his Dust was reaching beyond painful. Losing consciousness sounded like a good idea.

Blaise sighed and rubbed his hands down his face. "Do you understand what I just told you Draco? We are going to keep you here until the Dust is out of your system. It's going to take a long time mate."

Draco shrugged, still not saying anything.

"You will spend all your time in this room and Granger will look after you. She knows more about this addiction than I do, and if you don't behave, I will not hesitate to take you to St. Mungo's and let them deal with you. You have one chance Draco."

Blaise stood up and began to walk to the door. Just before reaching it, he turned to face Draco and looked at him intensely. "I hope for your sake, you don't fuck up."

Draco rolled his eyes as the door slammed shut behind Blaise. He was still tied down and so he couldn't move, but he found he was comfortable, which was something he did not expect from the Mudblood bitch. Blaise had said he would be confined to this room for the duration of the 'intervention'. Draco couldn't imagine how long it would take to get the Dust from his body; maybe a couple of weeks at the most? It had taken about that long the first time round at St Mungo's. But back then, he was in control of the need; it didn't control him.

It wasn't being confined to the room that bothered him, but the fact that he was under the care of a Mudblood. It meant seeing her- and most likely interacting with her as a result- on a regular basis. He had no doubts that he would not be allowed to keep his wand; Blaise would have confiscated it by now, so there was no way that he could disapparate out of the house. Or shack. Or whatever dwelling Mudblood's lived in.

Draco entertained a fantasy in which he managed to get Granger to lend him an owl. It would be easy to get the Dust by owl- Goyle catered in all ways after all- and Granger and Blaise would be none the wiser. The fantasy was cut short by a shuffle from outside the door, and Draco groaned in exasperation. He would never get any peace again. Why couldn't he just wallow in his self pity and pain alone?

The door to the room slowly opened, and he presumed it was either Blaise or the Mudblood coming in. Draco didn't want to talk to either of them, so he didn't bother raising his head to acknowledge the new presence. He identified soft footsteps on the wooden floor, and pegged the intruder as the Mudblood- Blaise tended to walk with a heavier gait.

"I know you are not happy to be here Malfoy. I can't say I'm overjoyed at having you here either, but I recognize that you need help, and I am willing to give it to you."

The Mudblood stopped speaking and waited. Obviously she was expecting a response from him, but Draco refused to acknowledge her.

He heard her sigh and heard footsteps moving closer to him. The couch that Blaise had vacated not too long ago gave a creak as she sat down and then there was silence.

Draco didn't know how much time passed before the silence became too much for him. His body was sinking further into agony and he was shivering. Though whether he was shivering from the cold, from the need to have the Dust or because of the sweat drenching his body, he couldn't tell. He raised his head and looked to the Mudblood. She was sitting there, all prim and proper, staring right back at him. Draco's throat felt scratchy as he opened it to speak. "You did fuck all to help me last time Granger. I'm back here again aren't I?"

He heard her suck in a sharp breath, but didn't get the satisfaction of having her blow up at him. Instead, she said in a calm and measured voice, "Malfoy, we both know what happened last time. You left. You were so close to being done, but you left. I can't, and won't, be held responsible for your failures now."

Draco felt his anger rising. How dare she! "Me? This is my fault? If you hadn't have touched what wasn't yours, we wouldn't be here."

The Mudblood looked at him for a short moment but then simply said, "I had to know what you were taking. I didn't find out last time, and I can't help you without knowing."

Gah! Stupid Gryffindors and their bloody bleeding hearts. "Like I was ever going to let you help me. Neither of us wanted to be there; I did both of us a favour by walking out Granger."

The girl's eyebrows rose slightly and she cocked her head to the side as stared into his eyes as though she was searching for something. Draco refused to look away and give her the satisfaction. "Actually, I was your Healer then Draco. Not only was I there because it was my job, but I was there because you needed help, and I knew what it was like to need help but refuse to acknowledge it. It was screaming at me from the moment I laid eyes on you."

After her little speech, the bushy haired brunette broke eye contact with him and turned her gaze to the window that Draco knew to be on the other side of him. What there was to see, Draco didn't know; who knew what filth Mudblood's lived in. "When have you ever needed someone's help Granger? You, the saviour and a Gryffindor; I don't think you've ever needed help in your life. Don't tell me what I need; you're nothing like me." Draco's voice was low and harsh.

The brunette's eyes snapped back to him and Draco could see them quickly refocusing on him as they lost the haziness of deep hidden thoughts. With a sneer the woman stood up and placed her hands on her hips. With a low voice she said, "You don't know me Draco Malfoy. Don't ever try to tell me when I have or have not ever needed something. I'm human just like you; your damned blood prejudices mean nothing."

Draco could tell he had angered her about something. Her face was slowly becoming red and he couldn't be surprised if he received a spark of electricity coming from her hair or a punch to the face. "I'm human. I have weaknesses and I have my own demons. I have needed help before. Harry and Ron saved my life not just during the war but after it." The woman in front of him let out a bitter laugh as she said, "Gods, especially after it. After I almost killed Ron, I swore off drugs for the rest of my life. So for the remainder of your stay here, I never want to hear you say I don't know what you are going through, because right now, I am the only one who can empathize in the least."

At the end of her tirade, the girl's eyes were blazing, her cheeks were high with colour and she was panting. Suddenly, her eyes went wide and she hissed under her breath "Oh fuck!" Draco didn't know what the "oh fuck" was in relation to, nor did he choose to take her to task about her language. What had stunned him beyond comprehension was her revelation that she had used drugs at some point in her life. And that she had almost killed Weasley.

_Shame that she failed_, said a voice in the back of Draco's mind that wasn't still reeling from this new influx of information.

Granger suddenly pinched the top of her nose and let out a long breath while staring at the ceiling. As she seemed to silently compose herself, Draco watched her with interest.

So, she had done drugs. _Interesting_.

Draco wondered how much he could stir her up about it. As his mind conjured up scenarios in which to make her snap- and possibly get him kicked out, which seemed to be the only way in which he would ever leave the dump he was currently residing in- he was brought back to attention by Granger suddenly snapping her fingers in front of his face. With a scowl, Draco looked at her. She seemed to be back to her normal self now.

"Never mention what I just said again. I am here to help you even if you despise me for it. Someone needs to save you Draco, and I'm the only one equipped to do it. Don't take my help for granted." With that, the Mudblood turned on her heel and walked towards the door. As she opened it, Draco could see the figure of Blaise stumble, as though he had been leaning against it and hadn't expected the door to be opened. "Zabini," Draco heard Granger acknowledge before the door slammed shut behind her.

The need to have the Dust was still fluttering around in his mind, but the anger, the betrayal and the hatred were emotions that far outweighed the pain he was experiencing from the sudden and unexpected withdrawal.

Neither Granger nor Blaise came back to talk to him that day, so for what would be the first of many similar days to come, Draco was left to his angry thoughts.

* * *

**I drew inspiration for Draco's character from Metallica's Master of Puppets. I think it serves well for describing how the drug has control over his life. I hope I have conveyed this: it is important to the story that readers understand how severe this drug is and how without help, he will die.**

**Update shall be soon (I was on holidays last week, hence late update)**


	8. An unexpected friendship

**J. owns all Harry Potter names and spells.**

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March 7, 2006.

Hermione was sitting on a chair when Zabini entered the room. It had been three days since Malfoy had been locked in her spare room and she was beginning to pity him. She expected it to take another two weeks before the drug was fully out of his system, and then she would get to work on rehabilitating him. She knew it would be a difficult task, but with the strange friendship Zabini and her had developed, she knew they could do it together.

_It sounded weird thinking that to herself. A friendship with a Slytherin?!_

"He hasn't eaten tonight's dinner either."

Hermione shrugged her shoulders and moved her legs aside so that Zabini could sit in the seat adjacent to her. "I'm not worried. I've been casting hydration and nutrition spells on him every night when he is asleep, so I know he is not going to die of starvation or dehydration. But if he keeps this up for another week, I'm going to have to take action. Those spells are only meant to be used in an emergency, but because of his body's reactions to the sudden withdrawal, I've thought it appropriate to use them. It won't stop muscle wastage though, and his heart needs proper energy to pump properly."

Zabini looked at her for a long moment. Hermione was used to his strange quirks, but his staring always made her feel uncomfortable. Shifting her body to the side so that she could curl up into the chair, Hermione let out a long sigh. "I wish you would have told me about the Dust last time Zabini." Despite their tentative friendship, Hermione often resorted back to his last name when she was talking about the past. "I could have helped him so much better back then with all the potions available at the hospital. I can't bring them back here as easy and if I got caught I'd not only get fired, but Malfoy's condition will be revealed."

Zabini continued to stare at her even after she had finished. The risk she was taking to bring back small quantities of potion was great, and Hermione knew that he was grateful, even if Malfoy didn't give a flying Hippogriff whether she got fired for helping him. The silence between them lapsed on and Hermione felt her eyes becoming heavy with tiredness when she was suddenly brought back to reality by Blaise's voice. "Come out to dinner with me tomorrow night Granger."

Her eyes flying open at a phenomenal pace, Hermione stared at her companion in shock. Had she heard him right?

Zabini laughed at the expression on her face and nodded his head. "Yes you heard me right. You need a night off and a decent meal. You shouldn't be working yourself so much to look after Draco. We both know he doesn't want to get better."

Hermione let her lips slide upwards at that revelation; that was the understatement of the Century! Malfoy was so hell bent on his own self destruction that it was harder than Hermione imagined helping him kick the addiction.

"It won't be anywhere fancy. Just a casual dinner between two people who have been forced together under unpleasant circumstances." Blaise shrugged his shoulders at the look of 'no kidding' on Hermione's face, but he continued, saying, "I mean it; wear your jeans and a jumper for all I care. I just want to shout you dinner to say thank you." At these words, Zabini looked a bit awkward and shifted in his seat. "For erm, putting up with Draco's shit and my constant presence. I know you have a life which we've kind of upturned."

_What life_? Hermione thought sarcastically. Before these two men had come into her life, she lived for work. Very rarely did she involve herself in social dinners or parties, choosing instead to stick to the Weasley brood and Harry for her social interaction needs. She hadn't dated properly since her and Ron had ended and no man had caught her fancy to even bother putting in the effort, even if she had been on a few one off dates. Letting a small smile show on her face, Hermione nodded her head and stood up. "Sure, dinner tomorrow night sounds great."

They made the necessary arrangements before Zabini bid her goodnight and took the floo back to his apartment. Before going to bed herself, Hermione checked in on Malfoy and determined that he was still sleeping restfully. The first night that Malfoy had slept in her apartment, she had been kept awake for a great deal of the night listening to Malfoy's dreams. It turned out that he was quite a vocal sleep talker and his dreams were anything but pleasant. Hermione had slipped a small vial of dreamless sleep potion into her healing robes the next day and drugged the drink that she made Blaise take him when he had visited the next night.

While she knew she should feel slightly guilty, she couldn't bring herself to regret her decision to help him in this small way. In appropriate doses, dreamless sleep potions were a miracle wonder, allowing the user to wake refreshed and more energized. And while Malfoy did wake looking less tired, he was showing no major signs of improvement.

She hoped that they would soon have a breakthrough with the reluctant patient; his resolve was waning and he was becoming weaker every day from his refusal to accept the drugs she was prepared to give him to help him. If he was her patient in the hospital again, Hermione knew she would have a medical duty to pin him to the bed and force the potion down his throat. However as neither he nor Zabini wanted a hospital, Hermione could only act as though a concerned friend would- even if she wasn't really a friend to either of them. She continued to help them because it was what Harry and Ron would have done for her if she hadn't have quit cold turkey.

One thing about the whole situation that weighed heavily on Hermione's mind was the possibility of getting caught. She knew she shouldn't be taking small doses of drugs from the potions cabinet, but it would raise questions if she got a prescription for them. Even as a Healer, her history with prescription drugs ensured that anything she was prescribed was checked. It would destroy Harry to hear that she was caught with doses of the drug that had caused her to almost kill Ron, even if she wasn't going to be using them. He had torn himself up over her addiction and had been the one person to help her stay on track by visiting her every day during her treatment.

If there was one thing that Hermione Granger knew from her Hogwarts years, it was that getting caught could land her in some serious trouble. Except this time detention or the possibility of death or torture were not her punishments. This time it was losing the respect of her best friend, and Hermione didn't know if she could do that just to help Draco Malfoy.

* * *

10 days later, March 17, 2006

From behind the door to his prison, Draco could hear laughter.

The Mudblood and Blaise had been at it for a good five minutes now, and Draco could not for the life of him figure out what they were laughing at. There wasn't much worth laughing for in Draco's opinion; Blaise has betrayed him and was sleeping with the enemy. Not literally of course; Draco shuddered to think of his best mate and the Mudblood in bed together.

That shit was disturbing.

Ever since their little 'dinner date', the Mudblood and Blaise had spent more time together than with him. Draco could care less about the Mudblood's presence, but the lack of attention from Blaise was starting to get to him. How dare the Mudblood Bitch keep his friend away from him. Draco had come to expect Blaise's presence in his life- they had been friends for years, and were soon to be brothers- and going this long without any sort of conversation from the other man was starting to make the 'drug withdrawal'- as Granger called it- even harder.

He needed some sort of stimulation to save him from the complete mind numbing pain of being locked in Granger's guest bedroom. A nice round of yelling, cursing and imaginary throttling of his best friend was what he needed.

But above all, he needed his Dust. Craved it on a daily basis; he even dreamt of it. Draco could feel his body withering away as a consequence of his sudden withdrawal and he was still refusing Granger's help. He knew she was getting worried about him; Blaise was as well, but when they chose each other's company over his, he was quite content on maintaining his stubbornness.

Grudgingly he accepted that the three of them were at a sort of impasse. The Mudblood and Blaise spent their time together and put his presence on a backbench, but whenever they did grace him with their presence, he ignored them in return.

No one was winning and no one was losing. It would have been preferable if Blaise and the Mudblood weren't close; Draco could have done with one extra Mudblood hating person in the shack he was currently in (not that he had seen any other part of the Mudblood's living situation except for the room he had been living in for the past few weeks), so Blaise's betrayal was bitter tasting. Blaise was supposed to loathe her with every fibre of his being; instead he was consorting with the very person he was supposed to despise.

A sudden loud crash started Draco out of his dark misery. Swinging his head in the direction of the door, he stared at it intensely wishing that he had his wand so he could blast the damned thing off its hinges. Female laughter drifted into the room and Draco scowled as he shifted onto his left hand side and curled up into himself. Blaise and Granger were getting too friendly and he didn't like it.

_He didn't like it one bit._

* * *

Draco's thinking was not too far off the pitch. Hermione and Blaise had formed a tentative friendship that was growing stronger by the day. They had been out for dinner and drinks four times since their first dinner as friends, and they had discovered that they got along swimmingly. Since Ron, Hermione had not progressed too far with her romantic life and had used her work commitments as an excuse to explain her single status. She had experienced a number of awkward blind dates with men Harry had tried set her up with, but at the end of each night Hermione would thank each man for the 'lovely time'. None of them would ever contact her again.

As a result of her past failures with the opposite sex- almost murdering her last steady boyfriend aside- it was a pleasant surprise for Hermione to acknowledge that she and Blaise Zabini got on well. While he had not been as academically talented as she had been at Hogwarts, Hermione found that she could maintain an intelligent conversation with the man. They were pleasant conversations filled with polite words and light laughs, and Zabini had a knack of making her blush.

An Italian by birth, he had all the characteristics of a charming Italian man. He complimented her frequently and gave her his sole attention when she talked. He would kiss her on the back of her hand or on her cheeks when they met and departed and he called her _Amore Mio_ more times than she really cared to admit given their current 'tentative friends' relationship. She had no doubt however that Blaise was interested. Italian men were notorious for being a loving breed, and as much as she tried to resist his charms, Hermione could feel herself warming up to him.

While Draco lay scowling at the door, Hermione and Blaise were in the middle of recounting their days at Hogwarts. She had learnt a lot about Slytherin life in Hogwarts since talking to Blaise and she found it hard to reconcile the cold sneering Slytherin teenagers with the people that Zabini described. He had just finished regaling her with a story involving Theodore Nott, Millicent Bulstrode and a bottle of love potion. As he wildly acted out Bulstrode's movements of warding off Nott, he stood too quickly and knocked the wooden chair he had been sitting in to the ground.

She was startled out of her laughter at the loud sound the chair made as it clattered to the tiled floor. Flicking her gaze back to Zabini to reassure him that it was alright, she started laughing again at the sheepish look on his face. Of all the stories Zabini could tell her, seeing a Slytherin look sheepish was one thing she could not get her head around.

As Zabini bent down to pick the chair up, he winked at her and said, "And that is the story of how Theodore Nott could never get any girl to agree to a date again. Bulstrode became something of a legend after that."

Shaking her head, Hermione cleared her throat and checked the time on her watch. It was half past ten and she needed to check on Malfoy soon. He had made little recovery over the ten days and it was beginning to worry her. She was still having to use charms on him to ensure his health stayed stable, but he refused to leave the room he was in. He was no longer confined to the bed and the door remained unlocked, but he flatly refused to venture further. Her house guest made good use of the ensuite bathroom and Hermione heard him take a shower at exactly eight thirty in the morning and evening without fail. Under any other circumstances, she would frown upon such blatant waste of water, but if it got him up and moving then she was not going to restrict him.

Standing up slowly- Zabini had encouraged her to drink more than one glass of champagne that night- Hermione cocked her head in the direction of Malfoy's door. "It's time I went to check up on him. I think it will be good for him to have you around tomorrow," she said to Zabini who was once again seated. As an afterthought, she said, "That's if you're not too busy. It has been a while since you spent some time with him. You might be able to encourage him to eat something decent. Or leave the room."

Blaise scoffed and shook his head. Eyeing the door with undisguised disgust, he replied with, "Draco is the most stubborn man you will ever meet. I won't have much more luck with him coming out of the room than I will with getting him to quit drugs."

Frowning slightly at the man, Hermione lowered herself back into her seat. Resting her elbows on the table, she nestled her chin into her hands and murmured, "You need to be there for him Blaise. It's hard going through this, and it's harder doing it alone. Maybe one day I will tell you about my experience, but for now just take my word for it alright?"

Zabini simply stared at her and did not say anything.

Shifting her gaze from his dark one, she gazed at Malfoy's closed door. "I feel like I have been keeping you from him. So for me, will you come by tomorrow at some point and just sit with him? Please? I'm really starting to worry about him, and St. Mungo's may be the only option we have left if he doesn't start improving."

Hermione heard the man opposite her let off a deep sigh before he stood. "Give me five minutes with him, and then you can come in to do your checks."

Glancing back to him, Hermione smiled in gratitude. "Hopefully you can bring him around. There is no love lost between us, but it is making me suffer watching him like this. And I know neither of you want him to be admitted to a hospital."

Zabini nodded his head once before stepping away from his chair and heading to Draco's door. Hermione watched as he twisted the unlocked knob and stepped in.

Before the door could fully close, Hermione heard Malfoy say "About fucking time you left the Mudblood Blaise. I've been suffering here all night having to listen to you two go at it like Weasley's in heat," before the door was forcefully slammed and Zabini's angry one drifted through the poor acoustics of the door.

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**Hermione's addiction will be revealed next chapter :)**


	9. An unexpected ending

**Happy New Year!**

**JKR owns Harry Potter names and references**

* * *

Having grown tired of listening to the murmuring voices of two men bicker through a wall, Hermione stood and made her way to her own bedroom in preparation of another night's restless sleep. Clearly it was going to take more than five minutes for Zabini to get through to Malfoy.

As she changed into her sleep bottoms and a tank top, she thought about how the anniversary of the Hogwarts battle was weeks away. It had been eight years since she had lost her innocence- eight years since she had taken a life rather than save one. The first year anniversary had been easy for her. She still suffered, but by that stage she had become so dependent upon her nightly sleep potion that she had spent the afternoon, evening and next morning in a blissful stupor oblivious to the pain around her.

The second anniversary had been the same, and she had failed to attend any memorial services that had been held or any events organized by the remains of the Order. Looking back, she could tell Harry and Ron had been worried about her coping strategy, but they knew she could not sleep without dreaming of the atrocities she had seen. For two years they had let her develop a dependency upon her sleeping potions; but what they did not know was that she had frequently changed potions before settling on the strongest one prescribed by Healers.

She was Hermione Granger; in the aftermath of the war what she asked for, she got.

Both of her boys had suffered immensely after the war, but they had handled it in their own ways. Harry had Ginny and as an extension, the Weasley family. Ron had his family and despite the loss of one of the Weasley boys, the family unit grew stronger and closer. For Hermione however, the Weasley's could not act as surrogate parents. Her parents were still very much alive, and as much as she wished it, the Weasley's could not act in their place. It ate at her every day that she had wiped their memories.

She had done it for their safety and she knew it was the best she could have done, but truthfully, she had not expected to come out of the war alive. And there had been many close calls to prove to her that she was in the centre of all the danger. Yet despite Mrs. Weasley's coddling, Hermione suffered in silence and mourned the loss of her own parents. She would never go to Australia; it would be too painful for her to deal with. They would not recognize her, would not remember her. Memory charms were irreversible. They had to be, or her old Professor Lockhart would have recovered from his own untimely memory wipe.

As it was, on the third anniversary Harry and Ron had found her naked on the ground in her shower. She had hardly eaten the day of the third anniversary and so the potion that she had downed before her shower had worked in half the time it normally took. By the time they had found her, the water had run cold and her body was starting to suffer the effects of hypothermia.

When she had recovered the next afternoon, Harry and Ron had cornered her about her continued use of sleeping potions. Everyone had grieved and were moving on with their lives; everyone except Hermione they had said. It was time for her to move on and grieve in a better way than sleeping her life away they had told her.

And there, covering the surface of her vanity table was her small stock of sleeping potions. She had watched with wide eyes as Harry levitated them with a flick of his wand and directed them out of her bedroom door. She had scrambled out of her bed and despite her nausea, she had attempted to chase after him, screaming at him to stop.

Ron- her lovable dopey boyfriend- however had stepped in her way. He tried to be soothing. He tried to calm her and hold her, but Hermione was having none of it. He was blocking her way to Harry and she needed him out of the picture. With a strength she did not know she possessed, she had slammed him against the wall and ducked under his arms, grabbing one of his Bludger bats that was leaning against the hallway wall and taking off after Harry.

She had reached the bathroom just in time to see her best friend pouring the contents of her bottles down the drain. He maintained eye contact with her as she stood there gasping for breath and unable to move as the consequences of his actions made themselves clear in her head.

Those memories she had been avoiding for three years were going to come back and haunt her. The screams, the lights, the running. The pain. Bellatrix carving her arm and Dobby dying. The fight at Godric's Hollow. The bodies of the slain. Harry's limp body when she had thought him dead. All the things she had been doping her subconscious for were going to return.

It had been no more than five seconds since she had made eye contact with Harry before Ron had come barging up the hallway clearly no longer dazed from Hermione's assault. His presence was like a light switch, flicking her body back to life. Seeing Ron as the most immediate threat, she had swung the bat- it had been held slack in her hands unforgotten until that moment- up into the side of his head. It had met his head with such force that he had crumpled to the ground. As she had watched Ron's body fall with a sort of detached interest, glass shattering behind her had caused her to whirl around in panic, the bat raised high in defence. Harry had abandoned the glass vials upon seeing her attack on Ron, and the sounds of the glass shattering upon the marble bench top and tiled floors was a sort of symphony to Hermione's ears.

Everything had been moving in slow motion for Hermione that day. She had stood in the same spot staring at the shattered glass and light blue liquid fanning out over her bathroom floor for what seemed like eons. Harry's snap of disapparation went ignored and even the rumbling in her stomach had been ignored. She was only brought out of her numb shock when her hand had let go of the Bludger that it had been clutching. The sound of the wooden bat had startled her so much that she had blinked her eyes twice and looked around.

It wasn't until she realised Harry and Ron were both missing that the events if the past few minutes- because despite time not meaning anything, only a few minutes had flown by- had clicked together.

She had hit Ron. She had hit Ron hard enough for him to crumple to the ground. Suddenly the dawning realization that her boyfriend could seriously be hurt became too much for her and she had collapsed to the ground. She had hit her best friend with a bat because of her need for her sleeping potion? It wasn't hard for her to have got more, but the mere fact that she had reacted so strongly to seeing Harry pour the contents away had been a strong indicator to her that she had needed help.

It had taken her a few more minutes to pull herself together enough to floo to St Mungo's. Five minutes later and she had discovered all she had needed to know; Ron was alive, but he was seriously concussed and the Healer's were worried about brain bleeding. She had not spoken to Harry but rather a Healer who did not know her part in the injury. The story Harry had told the Healers suggested that Ron had fallen down a flight of stairs. Hermione knew better, and she knew Harry well enough to know that he would never talk to her again after this episode.

Once she had been sure of Ron's condition, she had approached the reception desk and asked for information on the Hospital's Drug Rehabilitation programs. Her assault on Ron would not go unpunished she knew, but with all things that Hermione Granger did, she started them early with a determination to succeed.

It took many months for her to get over the effects of the sleeping potions and she still struggled to fall asleep naturally sometimes, but Hermione refused to let her addiction control her life. It was during her time with the rehabilitation wing of St Mungo's that her interest in the field began to grow. The staff were wary of her initial interest, but given her persistence and inability to accept the answer 'no', Hermione eventually managed to start training as a Healer. It was her own personal goal to help others like her, even if they were few and far between in the Wizarding world given the stigma that was given to people who abused drugs.

She herself suffered from this stereotyping, but after being Harry Potter's friend for so many years, she ignored the media and the speculation about her ability to be an adequate Healer.

Her own rehabilitation changed her life.

And she was determined to help Draco Malfoy change his.

* * *

A knock on her bedroom door pulled Hermione out of her thoughts. Blaise was standing at the threshold regarding her with his dark eyes.

"Draco is pretty pissed Granger. But I think I've talked him into cooperating with you," he said as he made his way into her bedroom. Sitting next to her on the bed, he nudged her softly with his shoulder. "It's not going to be easy, but I'm sure Hogwarts Golden Girl will manage to deal with a 25 year old spoilt brat."

Hermione gave Zabini a small smile and rocked her body into his before standing up. She gestured for Zabini to follow her out of the room deciding that now was the perfect time to lay down some ground rules. Even if he was being coerced, his cooperation would make her job much easier, but she knew that only he could change on his own terms. She knew how hard it was going to be for him, but was determined that she would not rest until she succeeded.

Zabini followed her out of the room and the two of them made their way to Malfoy. The door was open for a change and Hermione knew that this was something she would need to drill into Malfoy.

No locked doors.

Walking into the room, Hermione noticed Malfoy's face contort into a sneer that would have done his eleven year old self proud. He was sitting up in the bed and had his arms around his legs. "I don't want to see you right now Mudblood."

Blaise- who had been trailing behind her until this point- came forwards and roughly cuffed Malfoy on the back of his head. "Draco! I've told you not to use that word. How thick do you need to be?"

Muttering darkly about traitors, Malfoy sunk back into the mattress and continued to glare at Hermione. After hitting him, Blaise stepped back and gestured for Hermione to do her thing.

"So Bla-" upon seeing the flash of Malfoy's eyes at her intended use of Zabini's first name, Hermione hurriedly backtracked and corrected herself. "Zabini has told me that you are willing to cooperate with me?"

Malfoy continued to glare at her and refused to acknowledge she had spoken. Sighing, Hermione warily ran her right hand down her face. Maybe cooperating merely meant ignoring her? Deciding to continue anyway despite Malfoy's lack of confirmation, Hermione approached the bed slowly as she said, "We have to establish some ground rules first alright? Now the best way for us to both be happy about these rules are for us to both have a say in them. So we can do this in one of two ways." Malfoy's glare was becoming chilling and Hermione resisted the urge to wrap her arms around her body. "First, I can write all the rules I think would work well for us, or you can help me come up with them right here and right now."

Malfoy continued his silence, but Hermione could see the intelligence behind his grey eyes and knew he was beginning to plot. Deciding to start with the second option, Hermione sat down in the seat located near the bed and pulled out a pad of Muggle paper and a Muggle pen from the chest of drawers. Noticing Zabini's interest in the items, Hermione held them up and said, "Muggle stuff."

Malfoy's scoff of disproval drew Hermione's attention away from the fascinated stare of the other Slytherin in the room. Taking a leaf out of his own book, Hermione ignored Malfoy's response and instead continued with her original objective. "So. I know that I would prefer for us to both contribute to these rules Malfoy, but if you don't want to have any say, then what I say goes. Now, my first rule is that there are to be no locked doors in this house. Besides from when either of us are sleeping or one of us are to use the bathroom, doors are to remain open at all times." As she said this, she gently printed the rule down on the paper.

Before she could even look up from writing down the number 2, Malfoy spoke. His voice was cold and he spoke in a sharp tone. "Fine then. But you are not allowed to come in and pester me at all times. I see enough of you as it is."

Raising her eyebrow at his demand, Hermione merely nodded and jotted down, "Housemates to leave each other alone." Maybe the continued years of drugs had addled with his brain if that was the best rule he could come up with. Neither of them would have associated with the other unless absolutely necessary without a rule anyway.

"Well, in that case, my next rule is that all communication- whether floo or owl- is to be done out in the open in the lounge room. Under no circumstances are you to have an owl in this room Malfoy."

To Hermione's surprise, it wasn't just Draco who reacted to this, Zabini did too. He pushed himself off the wall that he had been lounging against and stepped forward, however it was Malfoy's outrage that drowned out any words that Zabini may have said.

"I think th-"

"What? That's pathetic Granger. This is not a police State. I have a right to owl communication; you can't stop me!"

"And if you had of heard me properly instead of paying all your attention on trying to blow up my wall with your glare-" Hermione had to pause for a short moment to shoot a warning look at a sniggering Zabini, "-you would have heard me say you can have owls... Just read them and send them in the lounge room."

"But that's completely unfair! I have a right to-" Draco didn't get the chance to finish his sentence as Hermione stood up and put her hands on her hips as she looked down at him laying in bed coldly.

"I'm not stupid Malfoy. I know that some dealers supply via owl post. I will not, under any circumstances, have drugs in my house."

Silence reigned for a short moment while Hermione glared at Malfoy.

Blaise had settled himself back against the wall watching the show waiting to step in if needed. Draco on the other hand quirked an eyebrow at the woman who was staring at him and raised himself into a sitting position. Shifting to get comfortable, he briefly inspected his fingernails before bestowing upon the Muggle Born words that would undoubtedly set him free from her clutches.

With malice dripping from every word, Draco drawled, "Scared Mudblood? Scared you'll give into temptation? Scared that you'll lose control?" Taking a moment to pause, Draco took a good look at the woman in front of him. He knew his words were affecting her. He just had to drive the final nail in. Like this. "Who knows, maybe you will actually kill the Weasel this time."

WHAP!

Draco's face twisted to the side at the force of Hermione Granger's palm to the side of his face.

The woman was seething. Never in all the times she had interacted with him had he ever made her this angry. The emotion she had felt that time in third year when she had slapped him was nothing compared to the emotion that was currently drowning her vision in red. Her chest heaved with barely contained aggression as she stared down at the blonde haired man defiling her spare bed. From the corner of her eye she was made aware of movement but she dismissed it as all her attention was focused on Draco Malfoy.

With a low voice, Hermione Granger sealed Draco Malfoy's fate. "How dare you say that to me. I don't like you Malfoy, and I don't even know why I offered to help you. But this, right here, is the end." Her words were short and sharp and her limbs shook from the barely restrained magic that was itching to unleash itself on the man in front of her. "Get out of my house now before I do something I will truly regret."

Suddenly, Hermione let out a yelp of protest as a pair of arms suddenly wrapped themselves around her shoulders. During her tirade at Draco, Zabini had noticed something was not right with the Witch. Her body was vibrating and the air above her skin was beginning to glow a soft red colour signifying only one thing; a build up of magic. With Draco's words and the anger they had sparked, the Witch was too focused on Draco to notice her own body's signals.

By wrapping his arms around her, he managed to distract her enough for her anger to slightly ebb away into distress. Zabini knew Hermione Granger was a powerful Witch, but he did not want a demonstration of just how powerful while surrounded by four walls and a roof. He wasn't entirely sure what Draco had meant when he had talked about a weasel dying, but he knew that it was a deliberate attempt to provoke the Witch.

Draco Malfoy had always been a cunning Slytherin, and he knew just which buttons to press to get what he wanted. And in this case, he wanted out.

Despite her forgiving nature and her empathy towards others, Zabini knew that this time Draco had over stepped the boundary. There was nothing he would be able to do to convince the Witch to help Draco anymore.

When all was said and done, Draco Malfoy was as good as dead the moment he hammered in that final nail.


	10. An unexpected kiss

**Happy New Year!**

**New chapter up. **

**JK Rowling owns HP names and other awesome stuff.**

* * *

March 31, 2006.

It had been two weeks since Hermione Granger had kicked Draco Malfoy out of her house and one week and five days since she had started to 'see' his Pure Blood brother-to-be.

After demanding Malfoy remove himself from her property at once, Hermione had never expected Blaise Zabini to turn up on her doorstep the following morning. She had been wary of his presence at first, but after listening to him rant and rave about the 'fucking idiot' that Malfoy was, she accepted that Zabini was not about to beg her to take the Blonde Git back in.

Zabini had asked her to lunch for the following day and she had graciously accepted. During the time that Malfoy had been with her, she had begun to warm up to the Italian and had looked forward to the times they spent together. He was witty and smart, and appreciated her need for quiet nights where she would just sit down, read and not talk to him.

During that lunch, Zabini had confessed to her that he hoped that the problems with Draco would not affect their friendship. Hermione had assured him that she enjoyed his friendship regardless of who he associated himself with. Much to her amusement, Zabini had smirked at her and slyly replied that he hoped to associate with her more often, to which Hermione brazenly responded with a 'I certainly hope so Mister Zabini'.

From that day on, Hermione had seen the Italian almost every day in some capacity. To her amazement, Hermione found that she was eager to finish work on the days that they had plans, and often looked forward to the days in which they did not have plans as Zabini had surprised her on more than one occasion.

Never did either of them bring up the topic of Draco Malfoy. Hermione knew they could not keep dancing around the elephant in the room, but she truly did not want to know what Malfoy was doing with himself. While he was in her care the first time at St Mungo's, he had fully eradicated the drug from his system. During his stay at her house, he had been so close to getting clean before she had demanded his exit. She did not want to hear Zabini confirm that all her hard work had gone down the drain so she kept shifting the conversations between them along to avoid the one she did not want to have.

As it was, on day thirteen of seeing each other, Zabini received an owl that demanded his urgent attention. The two had been enjoying a relaxing afternoon after a day of shopping in Diagonal Alley when a large owl had swooped through Zabini's window. Hermione had felt Blaise tense next to her before jumping off the couch and rushing to untie the letter from the owl. Hermione had watched his face turn into a scowl and heard him mutter 'Stupid Git' before he slammed the note down and looked at her.

"I'm sorry to have to cut this short Granger, but Draco's gone and cocked up again. I'm going to head to the Manor; his mother says that he won't answer her calls. Make of that what you want."

Hermione let out an audible sigh and shook her head. She was right; Malfoy was back to his old habits. And getting worse by the day judging by Zabini's response.

She gave him a small smile as she stood up from the couch. "I understand Zabini. You tried to help him, but I think that the best thing to do is to inform Narcissa. She will be a force to be reckoned with if she knew how bad his addiction is."

Zabini nodded solemnly. "It's been on my mind a fair bit to tell her actually. He's killing himself, and I don't want that to happen to my family. Because Draco is family Granger."

The look of hopelessness on Zabini's face made Hermione's heart flutter. He looked so vulnerable and unsure about what he needed to do, that Hermione couldn't help but go over to him and initiate the first physical contact between them. Standing in front of him, she cupped his cheek in her left hand and looked him in the eyes. "No one can say you did not do your best Blaise. If Malfoy is so intent on his own destruction then you know what you need to do next. Have faith in yourself alright? If Malfoy ends up hating you for it, then tough."

Zabini looked back at her and smiled a smile that made Hermione look away in embarrassment. She could only now work out how intimate their positioning was, so she lowered her hand back to her side.

To her surprise though, Zabini caught her hand and grasped it within his own. "Thank you Hermione. I know I gave you a big burden by asking you to help with Draco, but I really do appreciate it." As he spoke, his eyes darted down to her lips and Hermione stared back at him with a bewildered expression.

He wasn't going to kiss her was he?

Her thoughts were halted the moment his head dipped lower and his breath mingled with hers. "I'm going to kiss you now Granger," he whispered before he placed his lips on top of hers.

Hermione had kissed men before obviously. She had dated Ron for a while but that was as far as her kissing experience had gone. She had very rarely kissed the men she had 'dated' since then and so when Blaise Zabini's lips came into contact with hers, the first thoughts in Hermione's mind centered around remembering how to move her lips properly.

It turned out that Zabini was quite the expert in kissing, so the woman just followed his lead. It was a short kiss- nothing too passionate- but it left her with the desire to kiss him again.

Remembering the situation and Zabini's unknown reasons for kissing her, she quickly squashed those pesky little desires and took a step back away from the body of the Italian. Zabini was watching her with a guarded expression waiting for her response. Or maybe he was waiting for her to raise her arm and slap him.

Hermione wasn't sure what she wanted to do, so she said the only thing she could think of, "Oh."

_Real eloquent Granger_, she chastised herself.

Zabini on the other hand let out a laugh that made Hermione look up at him and narrow her eyes. He was laughing at her. Why was he laughing at her? As any girl would do, Hermione immediately thought he was laughing at her kissing ability.

Now she was ready to slap him.

"'Oh'? Is that the best you can come up with?"

Hermione stared at Zabini as a slight blush crawled up her cheeks. In a haughty tone deceiving of her current emotional turmoil, Hermione responded with, "Well sorry if I wasn't exactly expecting it."

"HA! I did warn you, and you had plenty of time to pull away even before I kissed you." As he spoke, Zabini noticed the scowl that was beginning to distort her features. Hastily raising his hands in a peace gesture, Zabini tacked on, "But now is not the time to discuss this kiss. I have to go to Draco." With those as his departing words, Zabini winked at Hermione and spun on the spot to disapparate out of her lounge room.

Hermione was left staring at the empty spot with her mouth open. Shaking her head to bring herself back to the present, Hermione ran a fingertip over her bottom lip and said aloud to herself, "Well, that was... Just... Far out!"

She had never expected Zabini to cross the lines from friendship to kissing partners in such a short space of time, but really she should have expected it earlier. Zabini had given her plenty of chances to see his interest in her, but she had always pushed them to the back of her mind, thinking that he was spending time with her as a way to thank her for Malfoy.

Some sort of misplaced guilt or something maybe?

Now that the boundary between friends and 'maybe something more' had been crossed in such a blatant way, Hermione knew that she would be pondering over every one of Zabini's actions towards her over the past few weeks, analyzing every encounter.

Groaning and pressing her fingertips into her closed eyes, Hermione slumped back into the couch. So much for a quiet afternoon off.

* * *

2 April 2006

Two days later

"Draco! Draco open this blasted door now, before I-" there was a pause as the person on the other side of the locked door stopped yelling and Draco could hear whispered words being exchanged before the yelling started again. "Just get out here now before I blast this door down!"

From his spot on his expansive bed, Draco scoffed and rolled his eyes. He knew Blaise and his mother were out there, plotting to get him out. He had been locked in his bedroom for the past five days after his mother had become unbearable.

After escaping from Mudblood Granger's clutches, Draco had immediately gone out to find Goyle. It hadn't taken long before Draco had a nice little parcel of Dust in his hands. He had disapparated from Knockturn Alley into his bedroom at the Manor- Blaise would not suspect that he would return to his ancestral home- and had immediately crushed up a tiny tablet of Dust in his bathroom. After so long without the drug, Draco's system had been unprepared for it, and so the time for it to hit him had been quicker than he was used to. He had been halfway across his bedroom before his head had gone light and he had felt like he was floating. Unable to hold himself up anymore, Draco had sunk to the floor and lain spread eagled on the carpet as he stared up in wonder at the intricate artwork on his roof. He must have fallen asleep at some stage because he had been shaken awake by his mother concerned about why he was on the floor.

Unfortunately for him, he had promptly thrown up on the thick carpet due to the nausea that he had suffered from the use of the Dust. Like with the first time he had used it, and every other time he went long periods without it, the Dust caused his body to throw up his stomach's contents.

His mother had swooped around him all day checking to make sure he was feeling well and drinking enough tea. Not once did she leave him alone long enough to get another dose of Dust into his system. This went on for ten days before he became so enrged by her constant pestering that he had cast a strong locking spell on his bedroom door and had set up wards that could only be released by him.

Despite this set back, his mother never failed to show up at his door every hour. Why she bothered, Draco didn't know. He refused to answer her calls and so silence greeted his mother's attempts at reaching out to her son. If only Blaise wasn't such a nosey bastard, Draco would have been at his own flat where it was quiet and his Mother didn't call out to him in her annoyingly high pitched 'worry' voice.

He had been surprised when he had heard Blaise talking to his mother through his bedroom door the day before. He had not expected her to reach out to her fiancé's son. Narcissa did not very much like Blaise Zabini as she saw him a threat to her future right to the Zabini fortune. As Draco should have known, nothing was too unexpected for Narcissa Malfoy when it came to her son.

Just look at the time she had lied to Lord Voldemort!

Draco's reasons for staying at the Manor were now void due to Blaise's presence. Rolling himself off his bed, Draco grabbed a small number of possessions before disapparating out of his room. So long as Blaise believed he was still in the Manor, Draco knew he would be left alone.

And that was just what he wanted.

* * *

6 April,

4 days later

Hermione and Blaise were walking arm in arm down Diagon Alley heading towards a small cafe to have afternoon tea. Blaise had owled her at work and had requested her presence that afternoon, but Hermione was unsure as to why.

He had barely spoken ten words to her during the walk from her apartment to the cafe, and Hermione was getting antsy. She had tried making small conversation, but for once the Italian did not seem interested in conversing with her. Instead he had his eyes lowered and his mouth set in a grim line and grunted his responses to her.

Hermione was beginning to regret accepting his offer for afternoon tea; she could have been at home catching up on some much needed sleep after an exhausting night shift.

Once they had arrived at the cafe and taken their seats, Blaise finally looked at Hermione. She saw how drawn his skin looked and how bloodshot his eyes were. Her concern for him made itself known as she cried, "Oh Blaise! Are you ok? You look absolutely dreadful!"

Somehow her words managed to lift the corners of his mouth but the sad look in his eyes remained. Sighing, Blaise finally spoke. "I'm sorry. I know we try not to speak about Draco, but it's at its worst point now."

Frowning, Hermione gestured for him to go.

"He's been locked in his bedroom at the Manor for ten days now. When I left you the other day, he had been in there for ten days already. Narcissa owled me because she was beside herself with worry. He's put up strong wards that I can't crack, and we don't even know if he's still alive. Narcissa says that he is, as the Manor would have given some sign that the heir has perished apparently, but he could be unconscious for all we know."

Hermione pursed her lips and looked off in the other direction as she thought about the problem Blaise was experiencing. She did not like Malfoy and did not feel any obligation to help the blonde haired prat, but she liked Blaise and she cared enough about him to know that Malfoy's behavior was taking a toll on the Italian's health.

"Narcissa doesn't know what is wrong with him, and I still haven't told her about the Dust. The poor woman is absolutely frantic with worry."

Watching the man in front of her wring his hands, Hermione leaned forward and placed her own hand over his to calm him. "Has Narcissa tried to break the wards?"

Blaise raised an eyebrow at the simplicity of the question. "I'm pretty sure that she has."

"But you haven't seen her do it?"

Slowly, Blaise shook his head.

With a small smile, Hermione told him exactly what he needed to know about breaking down Malfoy's wards.

Really, for a Witch who had not grown up in the Wizarding World, she knew more about Pureblood magic then they did.


End file.
